Circles
by Rhea Hiryuu
Summary: When a new villain tries to steal a familiar book from a museum, Raven is forced to reopen a certain white book in order to question Malchior. Guess who shows up soon after! Rorek/Raven/Malchior
1. A Mysterious Prologue

A/N: So I've been rereading my old story Spellbinder because, as it turns out, people are still reading it 8 years later. And my reaction was thus: "People are still reading this?-!-?-! This is crap! Alright, the story itself is okay I _guess_ but how does anyone get past the first few paragraphs without wanting to tear their eyes out and jump up and down on them?-!"

Obviously it's not as bad as all that. If it was it wouldn't have so many reviews. But I'm always going to be more critical of my own work than anyone else's so the smallest little thing is going to bother me.

I thought about completely rewriting it, but realized that if I did so I would, more or less, gut the thing and it'd be a completely different story. It'd also lose the tone of fluffy teenage fantasy that probably accounts for a decent sum of its readers…or so I'm guessing. So this is _not_ the oh-so-originally named Spellbinder's rewrite, this is a whole new kettle of fish from the same mind all growed up. Well, mostly grown up…moderately grown up…I have a full-time job with benefits. Does that count?

So anyway, this is not Spellbinder, but I'll probably recycle certain elements from it. And then blatantly steal others from places that were not available in 2004.

Malchior: Fuss Ro DA!-!-!

(Me Gusta face)

Fair warning, though: I intend to age the Titans a little. Not a lot, but Robin is now Nightwing, Beast Boy is now Beast Man (or so he wishes), Starfire is…still Starfire since that's her actual name (or rather the English translation of her name, which I know is Koriand'r), Cyborg is pretty much the same, and Raven will probably maim the first person to try calling her anything else. I like my limbs where they are so that's not changing either.

On with the fic!

Warning: This chapter contains much funny. The other chapters not as much so don't get use to it. It also features a very silly villain – which could describe anyone on this show but I made him up anyway. Enjoy!

_PS: (EDIT) Just fixing a few errors some people have helpfully pointed out to me. THANKS MUCH! Apparently I needed to add more description to Raven's new look. Also, does anyone know if it's suppose to be 'Tamaranean' or 'Tamaranian'? 'Cause I've seen it both ways and it's driving me nuts!_

_Just so we're clear: The "(8)" indicates the chapter is beginning or ending while the "(O)" indicates a break. I can't stand those line breaks that FF wants us to use. Blergh!_

(8)

**Chapter 1 – A Mysterious Prologue**

Lights were blaring, sirens were screaming, and security guards – who definitely were not getting paid enough for this – were spouting cliché movie lines that probably wouldn't have worked even if this world _wasn't_ overrun with ridiculously powered maniacs. They were turned to stone for their trouble. Feeling it was expected of him, the shadowy figure let out a hearty cackle that, due to his hay fever, ended up in a hearty hacking.

"Ugh, should have brought some cough drops." he muttered.

Target acquired and tucked neatly under his arm, the shadowy mysterious figure mysteriously flitted through the mysterious museum, dodging mysterious cameras and mysteriously sidestepping security guards who were mysteriously seeking the mysterious shadowy figure and I'll stop there before the adjective police arrest me for abusive usage. He made it out of the building with no more incidents, though tripping the alarm in the first place was a bit embarrassing. Oh well. What was the point of wearing an awesome costume if you weren't going to make a scene anyway?

He was about to make a clean getaway but paused in the distinct knowledge that he was forgetting something. What was it? Oh yeah! He back-tracked to the shadow of the museum's impressive countenance so that any invisible cameras could get a more dramatic angle and laughed, though shortly because he had to sneeze. Rotten hay fever. Anyway!

"You'll never catch me now! The ancient and powerful grimoire of…uh…" he checked the author's name, "Line, dot, small line, dot, big dot, slash, line, dot, small line…etcetera! Is mine!" he declared. "I am all powerful! Muahahaha—ach! Oh gawd!" he bent over double and heaved.

"Er...ahem, that's as far as you go!" a voice declared.

"Just—hack, wheeze—a minute—gasp!" he exclaimed. There was an awkward pause as he recovered. "Alright, I think I'm good. I do apologize. Seems not even my marvelous mysterious magic can combat the power of spring and all this infernal pollen. Anyway," he let out a dramatic gasp, "The Teen Titans?-!"

Cue sudden and dramatic revelation of the teenage crime fighters. Starfire floating in the air with her eyes and fists pulsing with her emerald energy, Beast Boy crouched and menacing (or so he believes), Cyborg gleaming with his freshly-polished chassis, Raven hovering in the air with her white cloak billowing, and Nightwing standing with his arms crossed and looking far more awesome than he ever could as the traffic light known as Robin.

"You may have the upper hand when it comes to dramatic entrances – and you kind of outnumber me five to one – but make no mistake! In fact, tremble in fear for I am the powerful and mighty…um…uh…you know, to tell you the truth I haven't actually decided on a name yet. Can't think of one…but I will! And it will be awesome because I am a mighty sorcerer! Especially now that I have the ancient and therefore obviously powerful Grimoire of Lines and Dots! Behold my power! Bwahahahaha—ach! Huff, hurack—!" he bent over double again with another coughing fit.

The Titans looked at one another and then back at The Great Can't-Think-of-a-Name-Yet-But-It'll-Be-Awesome-Just-You-Wait-and-See. He was revealed to be a blond youth who might have looked quite ordinary if not for the deep violet opera cloak, the headband with a big gold sun ornament on the side, and the black eye-covering mask.

"Is this guy for real?" Cyborg asked.

Beast Boy leapt into the air as a tiger and launched himself at the villain. The Great Can't (for short) let out a high-pitched yep of surprise and cowered down into a crouch with his arms up over his head. The tiger's inertia caused him to sail over the mysterious sorcerer. He then landed hard on the fortunately soft grass…as a stone statue. The Great Can't looked up, and then stood up proudly. "Ha-ha! See?-! I am great and powerful and totally meant to do that! I shall turn you all to—oh crap!" he scrambled out of the way of Starfire's blasts and yipped when one of them caught him in the tail.

Raven flew to Beast Boy and began working her power over him. Fortunately the petrifaction spell was already wearing off and he broke out of it in the next few seconds. "Brrr! That was cold! Why was it so cold!-?" he exclaimed, shaking himself. He pushed his green hair back out of his face. "How did he do that?"

"Lots of power. No control." Raven said.

Proving her point, The Great Can't attempted to fly and might have escaped due to his incredible speed. Too bad he couldn't steer. He landed face-first in a tree, managed to peel his face off, said "Koala..." for some reason, and fell backwards into the grass. Amazingly he still managed to keep hold of the book.

The Titans gathered around him in a wide circle that was closing in.

"I suggest you give up now." Nightwing said.

"Can I play with your hair?" The Great Can't asked from his prone position on the grass.

Nightwing regarded Can't with that one-eye-bigger-than-the-other expression which is easier to portray with a zero, period, and little 'o' than it is to describe. But I did it anyway so go me! "Um, no." Nightwing answered.

The Great Can't whipped himself back into a standing position. This was an impressive feat since he should realistically have a few hundred broken bones and brain damage (that is to say, _more_ brain damage). Isn't cartoon logic fun? "Then bear witness to the power of the Grimoire of Lines and Dots!" he declared, brandishing the large black book. Violet spellfire erupted from his hands and the book levitated high above him. The wind picked up and the force of the power began pushing the Titans back. They tensed for what was coming; all save Raven who wondered if she should warn the novice sorcerer – but had decided against it.

The Great and Mighty Can't-Think-of-a-Name-Yet-But-It'll-Be-Awesome-Just-You-Wait-and-See fainted dead away. The book, which didn't appear at all different or impressed, flopped down into the grass. Raven walked calmly over to it and picked it up just as the police cars began to arrive.

"Okay…what just happened?" Beast Boy asked blankly.

"He put all his power into the book instead of actually using it. Unfortunately for him it doesn't look like it _can_ be used. Why does everyone make the assumption that just because something is magical that means it can _do_ things?" she wondered, taking a better look at the strange tomb. It was a black book with some iron decoration. Each corner had a crescent moon facing the center and there was a circle on the front. Along the spine was a line of odd characters made up of lines and dots that were embossed in the iron binding. The book was eerily familiar, but she didn't quite remember ever seeing it before. She must have seen it in a dream. She'd been having some pretty weird ones lately. That was the trouble with prescience; more often than not you caught things that were too vague to be of any real use. She'd long ago learned to ignore her stray visions and focus on the here and now. Still, this book…

A man wearing plaid pajamas under a dark green trench coat and a frantic expression was running towards them. "Did you c_a_tch him? The b_oo_k—" Despite how excited and upset the man obviously was, he didn't seem to be talking so much as modulating a long yawn that extended the odd vowel more than was strictly necessary. The pair of very round spectacles he was wearing didn't really need the assistance of his drawling voice to make him a bit ridiculous.

"We have it. Are you in charge here?" Nightwing asked.

"I'm the cur_a_tor, yes. Joshua Sp_a_nder. I am so v_e_ry pleased to m_ee_t you and _i_nfinitely pleased with your ass_i_stance! The b_oo_k, is it b_a_dly damaged? Tell me the tr_u_th. Oh I can't l_oo_k!"

"It's fine." Raven assured him, brushing some of the dirt off. "What sort of book is it?"

"The pr_i_celess sort. It was f_o_und in an exc_a_vation funded most g_e_nerously by Wayne Enterprises and was entr_u_sted to us not two months ag_o_. The wr_i_ting is like n_o_thing we've ever seen before but we kn_o_w it must be t_e_rribly old, and m_a_gical – though we're not sure wh_a_t it d_o_es." he chattered as he, very gingerly, took the book from Raven. She couldn't help but wonder why he thought they should know all of this stuff. "Is it p_o_ssible he might know? I mean, he m_u_st have tried to st_e_al it for a r_e_ason…" he asked, looking down at The Great Can't.

"Not possible." Raven stated flatly.

"I s_a_y, you're a m_a_gic-user aren't you? Would you kn_o_w?"

She also couldn't help but wonder why he liked his vowels so much.

Raven held her hands up, "I'm afraid that's not really my thing." she told him.

"Are you s_u_re? The Mus_e_um of Unn_a_tural History would be most gr_a_teful for any insight you m_i_ght be able to g_i_ve. We are very well-f_u_nded, you see." the curator told her earnestly.

"I don't get it..." The Great Can't mumbled as the police carried him away. "Ancient relics have to be powerful. It's a rule..." he chanted dizzily.

Raven looked at the book. There really was something familiar about it and that piqued her curiosity. If she could have a closer look then she might know where she'd seen it before. What's more, it could be anything. What if it was a tomb of ancient magic like the overpowered novice thought? What if it was a story so old it was from some unknown civilization that may have existed even before the Egyptians? It could be some sort of religious text or a record of kings.

She could take up a hobby, couldn't she?

"I…can't promise you I'll find anything but I guess I could come by later and take a closer look." she decided.

"Spl_e_ndid! Here's my p_e_rsonal office number. Please c_a_ll any time between the hours of n_i_ne and s_i_x!" he told her eagerly, handing her a small slip of paper.

She took it, looked at it, and then looked at him. "Why do you keep business cards in your pajama pockets?"

"Er…"

(O)

"For the 347th time!" shouted Beast B— "Man! It's Beast _Man_!-!-! What is so hard about this?-!"

"You're keeping count?" Raven asked, raising an eyebrow over her book.

"We're use to Beast Boy, man. Gonna take a while to get use to the change." said Cyborg. Most of his attention was on his game but this argument had been made so often in the past few months that he could participate automatically.

"So Robin can change to Nightwing overnight but it's gonna take me a year to swap out three rotten letters?-!"

"He did change his costume." Raven pointed out.

"I grew out my hair!-!-! Doesn't that count for something?-! Anyway I can't change my costume! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get hold of cloth that morphs into animal skin?" he demanded.

"It's not hard, just expensive. And you keep spending your pocket money." Raven said.

"Look," Cyborg began before Beast Boy could go on, "Tell you what, Grass Stain, I'll put your new name on all your personal information in the system so at least the computer will know it and maybe the rest of us can take the hint. Now will you let it go for now? This is a new game and I'm trying to enjoy it."

Beast Boy opened his mouth but a black hand materialized and grabbed his lips. "Let it go, Beast Man." Raven said carelessly. Beast Boy relaxed, though that was mostly due to the fact that she'd actually used his new name, and she let the black hand disappear. "We'll adjust eventually."

"Still don't see why it's taking so long…" the green man grumbled.

Nightwing walked into the living room. "Has anyone seen Starfire?" he questioned.

"Many times. Why do you ask?" Raven responded with her usual monotone.

"She's not in her room." Nightwing answered. "I don't think she's in the building. Did she tell any of you where she was going?"

Raven looked up from her book and Cyborg paused his game. Starfire usually told someone if she was going out. It was kind of a rule – particularly for a Tamaranean who was _still_ coming to grips with various facts about the world. The four Titans looked at one another. They knew she could handle herself well enough but…well, after the whole Brotherhood of Evil thing they didn't like not knowing each others' general location.

"I'll do a quick scan of the tower." Raven said, putting her book away. She stood up and closed her eyes. For a few moments the color drained out of the area as though they were viewing the world by way of a really old television set. It didn't last long, but those on the receiving end of this strange new power tended to get the uncomfortable feeling that there was some kind of physical thickness to the shadows. And then everything was back to normal. "She's in the basement." Raven announced. The Titans relaxed.

"What's she doing down there?" Nightwing wondered.

"Metabolizing her breakfast and making use of her respiratory system, among other things." Raven answered.

"Nice to see your sense of humor, such as it is. Let's go check it out."

"But my game—alright, alright, I'm coming."

(O)

Beast Boy and N—

"Even the narrator is against me! It's Man! Beast Man! _Man_!-!-!"

Ahem, and Nightwing weren't the only ones to grow out their hair. For some reason Raven had decided she wanted a change. She wasn't sure why; perhaps she was just following Robin/Nightwing's lead out of sheer habit. She wasn't changing her name or anything, but it was surprising just how much difference a few superficial changes to her hair and costume had made. She'd told herself she could always go back if she wanted. That'd been three months ago.

Three months ago a slightly haywire spell had grown her hair out to about mid-back by accident. She was about to cut it off again but a chance look in her vanity mirror made her pause. She thought, 'why not?' and left it as it was, reasoning that she could always cut it again if she really wanted to. But then she got use to it and decided she _didn't_ want to. Everyone kept telling her how much it suited her and…well…for the first time in a long time she felt…pretty. So she'd kept it.

Then she'd made the other changes.

She and Starfire were growing same as Nightwing and Beast Boy/Man. Unlike Starfire, however, Raven wasn't very…confident. She wore the leotard because it was practical. But she was getting a bit more shape in these later years of her adolescence and so she'd decided to add a skirt for the sake of modesty. By some indefinable alchemy of fashion this had achieved the exact opposite effect. The skirt had needed to be short if it was going to stay practical and a short skirt with a leotard was…well, suffice it to say people didn't always keep in mind the fact that it _was_ a leotard.

To make a long story short the end result was a black bodysuit, a black miniskirt, black boots with just a bit of heel to them, a white cloak, and – since she had to have some blue somewhere – she'd altered the pigments of her red gems so that they made a dramatic leap down the color spectrum and were now blue. It worked. Somehow the white-black contrast seemed suitable. She'd gotten enough complements on the new look from her teammates that she knew she'd made the right choices – though she imagined it took her a lot longer to figure the whole thing out than it might have done for Starfire.

Speaking of which…

The first impression Raven got when the Titans arrived in the basement was that some small and selective hurricane had just passed through, and was still going on.

"Starfire?" Nightwing called.

A face framed in bright red and rather messy hair popped up from one of the upturned piles. Green eyes were wide and wild. "Friends!" Starfire cried out. She seemed frazzled. "Thank X'hal you are here for I cannot find my lorvyak!"

"Is she just making these words up?" Beast Boy asked.

"Tamaranean is certainly an interesting language…" Raven mused diplomatically.

"Calm down, Star. You lost your what now?" Nightwing asked.

"My lorvyak! I cast it into this place of holding many things and now I cannot find it!" she cried out desperately. "I wish to give it to Galfore for the celebration of his firstborn child but it has been lost! You must help me find it!"

"There _is_ an easier way." Raven said. The various bits of unused keepsakes lost color one by one as and floated up into the air. "What does this lorv-thing look like?" she asked.

"It is round and big like a ball kicked by feet. There are circles on it and it will say 'beep' many times!" Starfire answered excitedly. As Raven began to sort and, in the process, clean up the hundreds of things that Starfire had frantically scattered, Cyborg sidled over to their fearless leader.

"Nightwing, you got that look on your face. What's up, man?" he asked.

"Raven's powers. They've been getting...more potent." Nightwing answered a bit uneasily.

"So's her sense of humor. Besides, we're not the ones who ought to be worrying about it, right?"

Nightwing smirked. "You're right, of course." He didn't need to worry about Raven, he knew that. But _something_ was bothering him. He wished he knew what. _Sigh_, this was going to bother him to no end, wasn't it? Perhaps he should just decide to firmly _not_ worry about it until he had a definite reason to.

He looked up and around at all the floating objects in the cavernous basement. It was a huge place, buried far below the lake. It went even deeper and farther than the submarine bay. They'd discovered the caves only a year ago and, as was the nature of these things, had immediately begun to use them to store all those things that were cluttering up their rooms. That might have to change, though. Cyborg was talking like he wanted to start building stuff down here and Nightwing was all for that. But looking up at the way all their clutter filled the huge cavern when Raven used all three dimensions to set things aside made him wonder if that would be possible now.

Only Raven had neglected to add to the basement clutter. Being a magic-user she had something called sub-space. And it worked like this: matter and energy could not be created or destroyed unless reality itself got a bit silly about things. Space, however, was different. Space could be created and then turned inside-out so that it didn't get in the way. And then all you needed to do was make sure you kept the opening or key with you and that space would always be available. And then, of you wanted, you could also shove the space into a room or enclosed chamber of some sort. This meant that the dimensions of Raven's room were bigger on the inside than they were on the outside. That being said, her room was always recognizable whenever Cyborg's system pulled up an automated blueprint of the tower. It was the one were the light blue lines went all squiggly and the words 'logic error: restart universe and try again' flashed across it.

"Beep! Beep! Beep!"

"Oh glory be, Friend Raven!-!-! You have found my lorvyak!"

"Is that all it does?" Beast Boy asked, plucking the item out of the air so he could get a better look. Outside the grayscale quality of Raven's power it was pink with lots of orange rings drawn on it. Also, it wasn't actually beeping. It was _saying_ 'beep' in a cheerful voice that promised 2 minutes of amusement and then a lifetime of contemplating suicide in the event that there was no off button.

"Is it not splendid? On my planet it says 'boyrp!', which is Tamaranean for 'beep'." Starfire told them, cuddling the strange ball. It was still saying 'beep'.

"Well, that had a point." Raven muttered to herself. She reorganized and replaced all the stuff that she had floating around them in seconds, erasing all signs of Hurricane Starfire. Then she left.

Nightwing looked around. It didn't seem possible, but somehow Raven had managed to sort and separate all their individual stuff. Starfire's things were along that wall, Beast Boy's in stuff had that area there, Nightwing's things were in the corner over there, and Cyborg had a sort of curved area near the door. It was definitely a lot more organized than it had been before. How had she done that? Was he absolutely sure it wasn't Raven he should be worrying about?

Then he felt silly. This only proved just how much control the sorceress had over her power. If he was to worry about anything then this wasn't it. She could obviously handle it so this was not an issue. Just a curiosity. He'd ask her about it later. Likely there was some ridiculously easy explanation that didn't occur to him simply because he wasn't a magic user and didn't know all that stuff.

(O)

Raven flipped idly through the channels on the television. It was 2:00 in the morning, she couldn't sleep, she had no new books to read, no old books she felt like rereading, no one else was awake, and she felt at once too restless to meditate yet too tired to really _do_ anything. So here she was.

She paused at a late-night show that was interviewing some celebrity she didn't know from some TV show she didn't watch. The celebrity seemed to be complaining about how hard it was to find legitimate magic-users who weren't superheroes or villains. She changed the channel swiftly. _Of course they're hard to find. The centuries have taught us not to advertise without a mask on._

Another channel was showing some old cartoon, there was some anime showing here, commercials, commercials, commercials, some news cast was complaining about how boring and redundant crop circles were becoming and was asking whoever was doing them to either stop or make them more interesting, someone was raving about how aliens don't really exist it's just a lie the government came up with to hide all their human testing results (some people are never satisfied), and another news channel was replaying some footage from Metropolis where The Justice League saved the day again. Raven decided to watch for a while, though in a way she didn't really see the point. In all honesty Starfire had much the same power as Superman. While she couldn't move quite as fast or see through solid objects she also didn't have any real weaknesses. But there was a difference. It took a certain kind of person and mind to think up all the ways in which that power could be used to the greatest advantage, and do so in the split-second time allotment of battle. The skill could be learned, and Starfire was learning, but this was the reason Nightwing – their only truly human member – was the leader.

Magic was much the same. A mage could be incredibly powerful and have hundreds of spells under her belt, but casting spells in a relaxed atmosphere when there was no real pressure besides that of the spell itself was infinitely different from casting something in the middle of battle. Most people just couldn't do the latter. And even when it came to those that could, it was always better to use active or natural powers rather than spells. The reason was this: A mind under pressure tends to either forget all the spells they currently have or will remember every single one of them and can't decide which to use. The more spells you have the more versatile you might be, but try figuring out what to use in a split-second battle situation where the wrong decision could cost you dearly. And guess what! You have hundreds of wrong decisions to choose from. It is nigh impossible – especially if you have a lot of spells memorized. The best method is to practice with a select few base spells that you are likely to use often and rely mostly on spellfire in whatever form comes easiest to you. This isn't easy. In truth, most of the world's magic-users didn't fight or do much more than treat it as a sort of hobby. Plenty of them couldn't use spellfire at all – a major drawback for a battle mage.

It was like computer programming. You could do a bit with just some general knowledge but you had to be pretty good to get any real notice.

More cartoons. Old ones. A commercial for a new game, some movie or other, and another bit about Superman's daring rescue (oh, so now it was _just_ Superman and not the whole Justice League. Yeah, she knew how _that_ worked). This cast was talking about reasons why the building might have collapsed. Apparently it was one of those old historical buildings that everyone thought would stand forever since it seemed so strong but it just broke down for no visible reason. Fortunately Superman must have been inside before it actually came down.

"Am I tired yet?" she asked herself grumpily as she flipped through more commercials.

"Something wrong?"

She sighed and turned off the television. "I can't sleep." she answered. Nightwing sat down on the couch next to her.

"Any idea why?" he asked.

"Nope." she answered, staring up at the ceiling. "Sorry, did the TV wake you up?"

"Nature called in the middle of the night and I heard the noise. Did you have any weird dreams?" he asked.

"Well there was this big glowing eye but since I've just finished rereading Lord of the Rings that's probably nothing unusual. Superman was on the news. A building collapsed and he saved the day." she told him conversationally.

"Um, good?" he offered awkwardly. "Sure there's nothing going on?" he asked. "I notice you've been a bit more…powerful of late. I know you can handle it but I'm wondering if maybe there's a reason."

"Dunno. Maybe I'm going through a second puberty or something." she mused. He chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know how this magic thing works. And it's not like you're a normal sorceress or anything. So…ah…I've been meaning to ask. Down in the basement you reorganized the entire mess. How did you know what crap belonged to who?"

"Karmic signatures. When something is owned by someone that something possesses a faint mark that sort of matches or describes their aura." she explained.

"_Oh_, right. What happens when something gets stolen? Does it then have the mark of the thief or is it still marked by the rightful owner?" he asked.

"Both, it's just that the person who's had it and has subscribed ownership to it the most recently has the strongest mark."

"So could you tell if something was stolen?"

"Not by aura marks, no. That sort of thing is a bit…deeper. Too deep for me." she said. She stood up. "I'm going to try meditating on the roof."

"Alright, let me know if you need anything."

"I will, thanks Ro-er-I mean, Nightwing. Sorry…"

Nightwing chuckled. "No problem. Old habits are hard to break."

(8)

A/N: Warner Bros. totally makes up all those Tamaran words. LET'S FOLLOW THE LEADER!-!-!

It's been a while since I've used this site. Turns out it still does not like multiple punctuation unless you are using ellipses. I can't handle this limitation which is why, as I'm sure you've noticed, I'm cheating with dashes. I wonder if FF realizes this is one of the reasons people seem to be turning to Live Journal more and more these days.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Romance is like peanuts. You can make it salty or not salty. And it comes out looking the same as it did going in. And I think that metaphor got away from me…

Don't you just hate it when the creative juices start flowing like mad and then you have this cat who's like, "Pet me NOW mortal!" and is smart enough to know that the best place to sit is _in front of the computer monitor_?


	2. Voices in the Dark

A/N: Okay, backing off on the silliness. We'll see how long that lasts, heheh. :) By the way, has anyone seen the sugar?

Quack!

O.o, THAT'S not sugar. OH NO IT HAS A GUN!

PS: In truth this is the official chapter 1, but it bothers me when the chapter numbers are at odds with FF's own numbering system. I don't know why. Maybe I have some OCD…

(8)

**Chapter 2 – Voices in the Dark**

_What is it for?  
What is sacred?  
In my circle of regrets  
Circle of regrets_

_Today I'm drawing circles  
In my memory  
In the pages  
Of my life_

_That's me for a long time  
I can't run away…  
Long time_

_These stone tears are falling down on me (My regrets)  
All my regrets (I don't want this feeling)  
These stone tears are falling down on me (My regrets)  
All my regrets (I don't want this feeling)_

_I need more  
All I want is to break  
My circle of regrets  
Circle of regrets_

_Is there any solution?  
I want to find the way  
To escape  
To go away_

_That's me for a long time  
I can't run away…  
Long time_

_These stone tears are falling down on me (My regrets)  
All my regrets (I don't want this feeling)  
These stone tears are falling down on me (My regrets)  
All my regrets (I don't want this feeling)_

_("Circle" by Lacuna Coil)_

(0)

The characters were a chaotic mass of lines and dots at first. They seemed to hint at something like Chinese calligraphy where the direction of the brush and therefore the way the line tapered out was crucial to the character itself. Fortunately it soon became obvious that the characters were individual sounds rather than individual words. Mr. Spander gave her a piece of paper that showed all the distinct characters that the book presented. They'd managed to figure out that that at least five of them were vowels, but since they had no clue about the language itself they were at a loss to discover what vowels they were. There were 33 characters in total, but she wasn't here to crack the code. Being able to _read the words_ might have been slightly _helpful_, but this was a magical tomb. That much she could deduce. Now, what its purpose was or even if it _had_ a purpose and wasn't simply magical by _accident_ had yet to be determined. Perhaps the magic was nothing more than a complex preservation spell. That would explain why Can't's spellfire hadn't damaged or altered the book in any perceivable way.

She handled the cloth-like pages with care and examined each line of writing before turning to the next page. She couldn't help but wonder if she was honestly hoping something might click and suddenly it would all make sense. It wouldn't. This was just a way of keeping her eyes busy while she calmed her mind in order to examine the magic itself.

There really was something incredibly familiar with this book _and_ the writing. The longer she stared at the characters the more certain she was of it. She had seen these before. In a dream? Or perhaps on Azarath?

After about the fifth page she found a diagram of some sort. They were circles. Circles within circles overlapping circles that also had more circles and, oh look, another circle. They were decorated with strange characters that, when she unfocused her gaze a bit, took on the vague likeness of figures frozen in dancing posses – an impression born from the interesting way the lines tapered just so. Obviously all this was written and drawn with small paint brushes rather than quills or fountain pens. The center image was of a bald, mask-like face with eyes closed and no expression. It was hard to determine if it was male or female. Perhaps it was just suppose to be a face, or an indication of a person.

She found a picture a dozen or so pages after the diagram. It was of a and hooded woman turned to the side and holding a sword out in front of her with both hands. It was an enormous sword for what looked like such a small woman. Some pages later was another diagram of sorts. It seemed similar to the first but different; a bit simpler. Actually, when she looked at it, she realized that the characters weren't the same. _These_ characters were of the same line-and-dot writing that the actual text was written in. Interesting. Some pages after that and she found the image of an enormous stone castle with a dragon perched atop it's central tower. The castle had some strange texture to it and, curiously, the dragon didn't seem at all threatening or menacing. Instead the artist was portraying it as majestic and, perhaps, protective. She found two more diagrams she couldn't understand due to her ignorance of the language, there was a rather boring picture of a white circle that was indicated by where the short wispy lines that covered the image had _not_ been drawn, and then she came upon a picture of another castle. A really, really _big_ one with a _huge_ amount of detail that must have taken the artist a very long time. It was also covered in snow. One might not think this would be difficult to achieve, but if you thought about it and really _looked_ then you'd realize just how difficult it is to realistically properly portray snow when all you have is off-white paper and ink. One simple blot in the wrong place was all it'd take to make or break the image. This artist was a true master. The castle was _beautiful_. Raven decided to take a picture of it. She really wished she was a bit more artistically inclined. She doodled a bit now and again but otherwise she simply appreciated it.

Then she came upon two rather strange diagrams that had been drawn side-by-side. On the left there was a line of circles of various sizes and at various distances from one another. On the right was a diagram of circles within circles with those odd dancing characters in the spaces. These two images were a lot more simplistic than any of the other diagrams she'd seen. She turned the pages, hoping for more pictures. Those she could almost understand.

The next picture showed some sort of battlefield. At first she thought the dragons and humans were fighting one another, but then she realized that there were humans _riding_ the dragons. They were small dragons by her standards. They didn't look much bigger than, maybe, twice the size of the average horse – not including wings, neck, or tail. In the next picture there were three winged women wearing what appeared to be black leather armor and holding huge double-handed swords in only one hand. Then there was a picture of a two-headed dragon that appeared to be bearing down on a cloaked figure that you only saw the back of.

So, circles and dragons. Lots of circles and dragons. Got it.

She went through a few more pictures and diagrams that she didn't understand. Well, the pictures _sort_ of made sense, though why someone thought it necessary to draw out a group of rather ornate scrolls was beyond her. Then she got to the last diagram on the page. It made no more sense to her than any of the others – that is, until she noticed the symbol at the very center of it. It was a circle (big surprise) but it had an arrow coming from its top-right side pointing diagonally. It was largely recognized as the symbol for men or masculinity as well as the planet Mars. Ah ha! So this was some ancient spell of masculine nature. That at least gave her some idea about the nature of the spells that were likely to be described in the book. Still, it didn't exactly narrow down the possibilities. Fertility was a serious concern back when living conditions were poor and the quantity of humans was likewise. She imagined the other experts already knew what that mark meant and could place the book's possible origins but she decided to make a note of it anyway. It certainly helped to further indicate that this was probably some sort of grimoire like The Great Can't believed. He just had vastly different ideas about what was inside, obviously.

Other than that, nothing. She could tell the magic was there but for all she knew the book was meant to summon pizza from the future. Still, she had warned the curator that this wasn't really her thing. Oh she probably knew people whose thing this _was_, but it didn't seem right to call on them for something that, to her, was little more than a curiosity.

"I'm afraid all I could pick up was that it is definitely magical and probably has something to do with astrology. Other than that you'll have to wait for your cryptologists and linguists to figure out the words themselves." she told Mr. Spander later. "But I'll do a bit of research on the characters and diagrams if you can print me out some copies. I'll let you know if I find anything." she offered.

"C_e_rtainly. Might I _e_-mail them t_o_ you?" he asked her.

That would certainly be convenient. She nodded and they exchanged information.

"I'll send the ch_e_ck to your T-T_o_wer, then, sh_a_ll I?" he offered.

Raven blinked at him. She hadn't exactly expected to be _paid_ for this, though she had to admit it would be nice to have a little extra pocket money. "Uh…sure."

"_E_xcellent. I'll keep in t_o_uch! Please let me kn_o_w if you f_i_nd anything, no matter h_o_w insign_i_ficant."

(O)

"Er, Starfire?"

"Yes Friend Raven?"

"What's with all the…um…dirt?" An entire square side of the T-shaped tower's roof was covered in it. Great heaps of it. It wasn't just ordinary dirt either. It was the dark soil with white specks. The kind sold in stores that was packed with more nutrients than any normal soil would ever have without some major compost going on. Starfire had a few dozen enormous bags still unopened and she was currently making a large pile over on the northwestern corner. Raven _had_ been intending to meditate up here like she often did, but apparently this was now happening.

"I am making the rooftop garden!" Starfire declared energetically, her enthusiasm shining like a bright multicolored sun. "Nightwing has told me that I can and I have been saving much spending money! I shall plant many flowers and trees and bushes, and grasses that shall bask in the glorious rays of the sun and you shall have color and shade while you meditate. Will that not be wonderful?-!"

Raven suddenly had a mental image of the western half of the T-Tower turning into a tiny jungle with vines and creepers dangling over the edges. One of the trees in her vision was even growing sideways on the side of the roof. She shook her head. "Um…Starfire? You're suppose to put the plants, and dirt, in _pots_." she said.

"…Oh…" Starfire's wide eyes roved guiltily around, surveying the enormous quantity of rich soil that had already taken over a great deal of rooftop.

Raven sighed, scratched at her head, and pulled out her new and improved communicator.

Taking his inspiration from modern-day's smartphone technology, Cyborg had upgraded their communicators into something whose patent could have probably been sold to buy a small island. She accessed the map-search application and started looking for stores that sold garden supplies. She found one. "Come on, this place isn't too far." at least not when you never had to worry about gas prices. "Let's go see what they have."

If Starfire had actually planted any seeds then they would have bloomed in the rays of her excitement. Raven sent a quick text to Nightwing to tell him they were going out and then she led Starfire in the direction of the plant shop she'd found on her communicator.

Despite the convenience of Cyborg's advanced technology, Starfire and Beast Boy were a bit behind in learning how to use them. Beast Boy was pretty good with computers (surprisingly enough) but his big hands were a bit inconvenient for a touch screen and Starfire was…well, she was Starfire. Raven had adopted the new approach swiftly since it meant she could send messages to her team-mates without leaving her sanctuary. Nightwing adapted swiftly because he practically made an art form of using technology to its full advantage. As for Cyborg…well, _duh_.

Raven was sure that Beast Boy, at least, would work something out when he discovered the music and video player Cyborg had installed. It might take a little longer for Starfire to get into it. She certainly wasn't _stupid_, but sheer unfamiliarity with many common concepts meant that some things took time for her to adapt to while others she caught on like that. Tamaran had been using video communication for decades but they'd never considered the idea of something like _e-mail_ or even _letters_. The written word was meant to record things, not to communicate with.

The first store they came to only had small pots, which sort of disappointed the image Starfire had obviously been cultivating. She bought a few anyway for flowers and they checked another shop, then another. Finally an enormous greenhouse emporium had empty pots big enough for growing trees in and that seemed to satisfy her. She bought over a dozen and then decided to buy seeds, gardening tools, a few saplings, and tried to buy 'grass seeds'. Finally Raven drug her to a pet shop where they bought a bag full of traditional bird seed. Once back at the Tower, Raven assisted Starfire in transferring the ridiculous amount of soil into the pots she was levitating for that very purpose. There was still a lot of soil left over, not including what was still in the bags, so Starfire insisted they go back for more enormous pots.

At this rate there might not be very much room on the roof for anything but the plants.

(O)

Two weeks had passed since the Titan's encounter with The Great Can't. Some villains had been thrown back in jail, Starfire's rooftop garden had managed to keep to one side of the tower so that the Titans' small basketball court didn't get overrun, Raven had let Beast Boy talk her into at least _trying_ to play a video game and regretted it (what the crap was the point of playing virtual sports when they had all the necessary equipment to do it for real?), and Beast Boy had taken to sleeping in the living room with the TV on. She didn't mind that so much. It meant that when she came down after another sleepless night it was already on. All she needed to do was pick up the remote to get the channels moving from one to another. Besides, Beast Boy was always fast asleep. The only thing that'd wake him up would be if she turned the TV off.

When the check from The Museium of Unnatural History came in she decided to blow it on books.

It was her favorite book store. She had several but this was, by far, the best in her humble opinion. It was in an older part of the town that had been rebuilt and remodeled in one of the city's attempts at preserving historical architecture, which only sort of succeeded. Still, the brickwork was nice even if they were only small brick-looking slabs that had been pasted over the plaster, and the old style iron lamp posts gave the place ambiance even if they were electrically powered and used LED bulbs. There was such a lamp post right in front of the book store, which was called Abby's. It was privately owned so it could keep any hours it wanted and those hours tended to extend into the dark night where the lamp post was a definite bonus.

Abby herself was a skinny girl with red hair, pale skin, and enough freckles to make clear country night skies jealous. She was a bit socially awkward but had been working in the store since she was old enough to carry books around for her father. It was much easier to be comfortably social when you were in your own territory and Raven noticed she was making an effort to be more outgoing. Ever since she'd taken over running the shop, the store's hours had been from 12:00pm to 2:00am. If asked why Abby's typical response was, "Because nothing good ever happens after 2:00am. The TV told me so."

She was going through what looked to be a large box of old dusty books at the front counter when Raven entered. She glanced up. "Hi Raven." she said in her odd sing-song tones. "Looking for anything specific?"

"Something different, I guess." Raven answered.

"Check the loft. Second shelf to your right." Abby chanted absently, going back to the task at hand with her tongue stuck between her teeth.

Raven flew up to the loft and investigated the suggested area. Her eyes went wide while her pupils got tiny. Probably the best way to describe such an expression would be with two capital 'O's bifurcated by a period. "R-r-romance?" she stammered out. "Well, that's certainly different."

"Yep!" Abby sang from below. She giggled. "Try it! It's like peanuts!"

"Um…peanuts?"

"Yeah. You don't have to think about peanuts, you just eat them. They might not make a proper meal, either, but they'll tie you over, and some of them are salty! Also they have protein and that's good for you."

"I think that metaphor just got away with you…"

"Everyone needs a little romance in their life, though the definition of romantic seems to have become exclusive to person-on-person relationships. Still, some of that's nice too."

Raven regarded the shelves with great trepidation.

"I don't do…_romance_…"

"You did say you wanted something different." Abby sang out.

Raven grunted, knowing she'd been caught. She reached out for a plane-looking spine and pulled it out to examine the book itself. It was about vampires. She put it back and picked out another one. More vampires. That was apparently the thing these days, though she did find one with pirates in it instead. Raven flew up to the top shelves and started searching through the thick hard-covers. Ah, here we go. The traditional type of 'romantic' with an epic hero facing impossible odds to save the land from evil. It wasn't exactly _different_ from her usual stuff, but it was at least new…well, new for _her_. It had a binding so old-fashioned that Abby had hand-written a summery for it and used a light blue sticky note to past it onto the cover. Still, even if it wasn't very different it was still new. She searched the other shelves for stuff, found quite a few more books, but decided, eventually, to give in and selected a slightly more modern version of the romance genre. But no vampires. Or any of the increasingly popular _vampyres_ (which, Raven often suspected, were just vampires that couldn't spell).

Eight books settled down on Abby's counter. She wrung them up from the sticky notes she used as price tags, removed said sticky notes, and gave Raven her receipt. "See you later." she chanted.

Raven teleported her books to the T-Tower and left the shop. She hadn't gotten three steps before the blue stone on her cloak began to flash. She materialized her communicator and Nightwing's face appeared. "Raven, where are you?" he asked.

"In the Old Town district." she answered. "Where's the emergency?"

"The Museum of Unnatural History."

(O)

Mr. Spander was in hysterics, practically in tears too. "The ent_i_re display case simply sh_a_ttered to pi_e_ces! Wh_a_t was the point of th_a_t?" he moaned.

"No point, he just can't control his power." Raven answered.

"Then how'd he break out of prison? They know how to deal with magic-users. I don't get this." Nightwing said.

"Turns out he disappeared from his cell the next morning, just after we caught him." Cyborg said, looking it up on the screen a raised segment in his arm revealed. "Ya know, it occurs to me that if we kept track of who's on the loose and who's still locked up we wouldn't have these surprises."

"We don't have time to keep tabs on all our villains!" Beast Boy exclaimed.

"Yeah, Azar forbid you put down the video game for fifteen minutes a day." Raven muttered.

"There's nothing we can do now." said Nightwing. "We'll start looking for him in the morning. An overpowered novice shouldn't be too difficult to track down, right?" he asked Raven.

"I'll have to prepare a few things but, no, not really."

"Don't worry, we'll get your book back. And this time The Great Can't will _stay_ in prison." Nightwing declared.

"Oh th_a_nk you! You have n_o_ idea what this m_e_ans! Do hurr_y_, though. I just feel so s_i_ck thinking of all the dam_a_ge that m_i_screant could be d_o_ing!" Mr. Spander wailed with just a touch too much drama.

(O)

"**Was the name a coincidence?"**

Raven turned over in her sleep. She was in a state of frequent shifting between her dreams and what she only sometimes thought might be the real world. The dreams that slipped in and out of her mind were fitful, leaving behind only bits and pieces. Mostly words.

"**There's a better way.", "Child of the child of…", "One way for all."**

She mumbled something to herself.

"**It's a warning.", "The first escaped.", "Can you hear me?"**

She shifted.

"**So you are the child of—", "Like me.", "2nd generation.", "It's a warning.", "Become like me."**

"Stop…" she heard herself croak out.

"**Was the name a coincidence?", "You will be me.", "Time eats his children.", "There's a better way, one way.", "Your help."**

She opened her eyes and then made the mistake of closing them again.

"**It's a warning.", "Iron of the mind.", "Hide your teeth.", "Find…"**

"STOOOOOOP!" Raven shouted, sitting straight up in bed.

The world froze around her, taking on strange colors that were mostly blue and violet but with spare bits of green. She looked around, sighed, and flopped backwards onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Could air have color? What little light her window offered was being warped in strange ways. So this was what light looked like when you froze time. Of course, she'd seen it before. She and Nightwing had both experienced this about three years ago. Now, however, she was actually in a position to admire the detail. It was really quite fascinating.

Of course, you couldn't sleep during a time freeze like this. Anyone who fell asleep in a time freeze would get swept back up into the normal flow of time even if they _weren't_ the one who initiated it. Somehow the body's own natural functions found some way to overrule stopped time when the brain was allowed to switch to automatic. It had something to do with the brain deciding it needed time in order to release its nighttime hormones. It was truly amazing just how powerful the body's self-preservation functions could be, especially on your average human.

Raven forced herself to be calm. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and calmly canceled the time-stop. When she opened her eyes the light was back to normal. Why was it that she could see better in the dark when time was frozen than when it wasn't? The fact of this was a bit…chilling. It seemed to somehow suggest that the darkness was a bit more than just the absence of light. She decided not to think too hard about that.

She got up out of bed and did a few stretches to calm herself down. Lately she had begun to realize that there was a far stronger bond between the mind and the body than most people believed. The mind had more power over the body than you realized just as the body had more power over the mind than you were aware of. This meant that when the body was healthy the mind was in a far better state just as when the mind was in a bad state it effected the body. So she had begun to exercise with her body alone. At first it was grueling. Her natural powers were difficult to put aside since she had been trained to use them since birth. She had to use them in order to control them. But she had stuck to it. She'd used the parts of the training room that were mostly utilized by Nightwing and the results had been worth it. She had even decided to try sparing with Nightwing, though any idea that she might ever reach a level where she could actually use these moves in real combat were completely ridiculous and she knew it. But her body was strong and healthy and her mind had never felt so clear and easy to focus.

Sometimes she wondered if that decision had been a divine gift of prescience. Not long after she began to truly feel the benefit of her exercises her powers had performed a kind of evolution almost overnight. If she hadn't been in such a prime state she might not have been able to handle it. But she could. She had been handling this sort of thing since she was old enough to understand the concept of words. All she needed was a bit more meditation than normal and the occasional trip to a barren wasteland that no one would miss.

Deciding that sleep probably wasn't happening tonight she began pulling out the materials she needed for her scrying.

The Great Can't was ridiculously easy to find.

(O)

"This is…not what I'd expected." Someone had to say it. They were all thinking it. Cyborg was the one who got there first this time.

They were in Old Town Jump City not that far from Abby's and they were staring up at a brickwork town home with a polished rosewood door and an iron porch light of the same look as the lamp posts. There was a welcome mat that bore the legend, "Don't step on the invisible grass" which was an obvious jibe at the fact that the nearest bit of grass to be found was on the other side of the street, and it seemed to be growing funny at that. The iron mail box next to the door had the word 'Mail' embossed in the metal, but someone had decided to cross it out and paint 'Male, hahahahaha' in bright pink.

The Titans looked at one another.

"You sure he's in there?" Nightwing asked.

"Positive." Raven answered.

"I guess we'll knock then." he said, walking up to the door and doing just that.

The door was opened by a little girl who couldn't be much older than 7 or 8. She had lots of glossy black hair that, for some odd reason, was up all over the place in a chaotic mass of ponytails, braids, bows, twists, and fancy hair ties. She stared up at them with a pair of big aqua-blue eyes for a minute. Then, instead of screaming for her mother or, worse, something like 'OH MY GOD IT'S THE TEEN TITANS EEEEE!', her expression drooped and she groaned out, "Oh no, not again."

They know she was the one who spoke. Her lips were moving and sound was coming from them. It was just that the voice that came out did _not_ belong to a little girl. Instead it was the deep, mellow voice of a grown woman. The kind of woman you expected to be standing there wearing a long black slip-dress with high heels, one hip jutting out to the side, and a pipe or cigarette between her ruby red lips. It was deep, chocolaty, and melodious. It was very much _not_ a little girl's voice. And especially not a little girl with such wild hair wearing a rather large T-shirt with a red dragon on the front. It was big enough to be a nightdress but the pair of baggy jeans beneath it denied the notion that she was still in her PJs.

She stepped aside, opening the door up to them. "You may as well come on in. This is going to take some explaining." she told them. And then, from out of those small lungs, came a bellow the likes of which rocked the earth. "ERIIIIIIC!-!-! YOU'RE IN TROUBLE MR.! GET YOUR BUTT DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!-!-!"

They heard a crash from the floor above and then a figure staggered into view at the top of the stairs, which he promptly fell down tumbling over himself several times before landing in a heap on the foyer. He whimpered.

The Titans stared.

"Dude…is that dude wearing a skirt?" Beast Boy demanded.

The Great Can't looked up at them from his prone position on the foyer and then swiftly scrambled to his feet. He gaped avidly at Nightwing. "Oh. My. God. Your hair is _beautiful_!" he gushed. "So amazing…Can I play with it? Please oh pleeeeease!" he begged.

"_Ahem_. Eric? Could you come down from Cloud Hair for a second and, perhaps, take note of what our guests are _wearing_?" the little girl demanded.

Eric's face then took on the expression one might have if they were to suddenly realize the light at the end of the tunnel was an oncoming train. "Oh no…" he groaned. "I did it again didn't I?"

(O)

Eric Divan's driver's license and birth certificate might proclaim him to be 23 but he looked like he was 17 and in the middle of a serious identity crisis. This crisis being the obvious question of whether he was an Eric or an Eri_ca_. He was a lot scrawnier than the opera cloak of The Great Can't had made him look and the outfit he was wearing now was obviously meant to accentuate this feature. He had on a tight violently violet T-shirt with a v-neck and a black kitten with big green eyes on the front. He was, indeed, wearing a pleated black skirt but also, thankfully, had decided to augment this with a pair of tight violet leggings. His blond hair was combed over so it obscured one eye, but the eye it didn't obscure was a bit heavy on the black makeup.

All in all, Raven's initial impression that he'd look quite ordinary without the villain ensemble had been woefully incorrect.

A large plate of cups, a teapot, and lots of sugar cookies with multicolored sprinkles on the top was levitated into the room and sat expertly down on the coffee table in front of the Titans. It was followed by Margaret Divan, who was also levitating a large jug of ice water at her side. "Who wants water and who wants tea?" that chocolate voice asked.

"Do you have any soda?" Cyborg asked.

"Can't keep it in the house for more than two days." Margaret shot a glair at her brother, who, already nervous as hell, flinched and cowered. "I could go and get some if you're willing to wait. What would you like?" she asked.

"Uh, that's alright, I'll just drink water." Cyborg told her.

Raven and Nightwing were the only ones who opted for the tea. And, once everyone had been served by Margaret's impressive telekinetic abilities, Beast Boy was allowed to go to town on the cookies.

"So…you're The Great Can't?" Nightwing began, raising an eyebrow at Eric.

"The Great what-now?" he asked, his eyes wide.

"Sorry, that's sort of what we've been calling you." Nightwing told him.

"It's short for 'Can't-Think-of-a-Name-Yet-But-It'll-Be-Awesome-Just-You-Wait-and-See'." Cyborg supplied.

Margaret burst out laughing. It was an incredibly attractive laugh, too. Too bad it was coming from an 8-year-old. "I like it! The Great Can't! It fits him perfectly." she said, smirking at her brother. He made a half whimper half sobbing sound and buried his face in his hands.

"So, what exactly is all this about?" Nightwing asked.

"You know how some people sleep-walk?" Margaret asked. "He sleep-villains." she told them, pointing an accusing finger at Eric.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed desperately. "I thought it'd stopped! I mean it hadn't happened for two years so we were sure I'd grown out of it! Then The Batman suggested we move here to Jump City, make a clean start of it and everything. He said it'd be good for me, that I should get out of an environment that might trigger another episode while at the same time he knew there'd be people here who could stop me just in case it happened again. We didn't think it would! I mean, two years! Two years with nothing happening! And it's not like we only just moved here either." he babbled. "We've been here for five months. Nothing happened!"

"Alright, so how did you get out of your cell the morning after you were caught?" Nightwing demanded.

"It's complicated." Margaret answered. "You know astral projection? Well that's _not_ what he does but it gives you a sort of idea of what happens. How long ago was this, again?"

"It happened about two weeks ago." Nightwing answered.

"I'm really, _really_ sorry! I don't know how to stop it! I thought it _had_ stopped! Just, tell me…I wasn't dressed _too_ terribly, was I? Tell the truth—no wait, don't! I don't think I could handle it. No, I have to know. Tell me! No wait don't!" he exclaimed, his arms flailing as he awkwardly attempted to hear bad news and defend himself from it at the same time.

"Trust me, you weren't nearly as bad as some of the maniacs we face." Nightwing told him. This didn't seem to comfort Eric all that much, though.

Margaret sighed. "Look, we know how to deal with this." she told them. She drew up next to her brother and took his hand, patting it gently. "Let me give you my cell phone number. If it happens again all you have to do is call me and I'll pour a bucket of water over him. When he wakes up his villain self will disappear. Then we'll pay for any damages."

"Alright, we can work with that. Except we're going to need the book you stole." Nightwing told them.

Both siblings stared at him with wide-eyed surprise. "Book? What book?" Eric asked.

"You mean he _actually_ managed to _successfully_ pull off some villain thing?" Margaret asked, her jaw dropping. "I don't believe it." she declared.

"The book he was after the first time was stolen just last night. We need it back." Nightwing told them.

"I'll go check my room. What does it look like?" Eric asked.

"It's a very old book. It has a black leather-bound cover with an iron frame and a circle on the front." Raven explained. She took out her communicator and flipped to the images that she'd been e-mailed by Mr. Spander. "The writing in it looks like this." she told them, showing them the picture of all the individual characters the museum had been able to pick out.

"I don't remember anything like that but I'll go look." Eric said, standing up.

Margaret took the communicator so she could get a closer look. "Huh, cool. Looks like dragon writing." she said.

"Say what?" Raven asked, her eyes widening. "You recognize it?"

"Nah, I'm no good at languages. It could be Greek for all I know. But don't you think the characters look like something dragons might be able to scratch into the ground or stone or something with their claws? I mean, the lines even resemble teeth and claws. Though it could be any mystical creature with claws I _guess_," she said, rolling her eyes. "But I like dragons." she stated, handing the communicator back to Raven.

"You don't say…" Cyborg mused, looking up at the ceiling where more than a few decorative dragon figurines were hanging. There was also a curio cabinet that didn't seem to feature anything that didn't have at least one dragon or dragon-like item within, the coffee table looked like it was standing on dragon claws, and the blanket that was spread over the couch depicted a black dragon and a white dragon doing some sort of yin-yang thing. "So, just how old are you?" he asked.

"29." she answered simply, producing a Social Security card from thin air as proof. Her name and birth date were written clearly on the thick paper.

"You're joking…" Beast Boy said weekly.

"I blame my mother." she said. "The fool woman thought her parents refused to train her magic when she was young because they just didn't want her to have any fun. Turns out there's a reason our family shouldn't be using any of our power until after our 18th birthday. Thank _gawd_ Eric at least manage to age enough he can pass for 18. But now I'm stuck looking like a grade-schooler and Eric can't even bend a stupid spoon unless he's sleep-villaining. But we've learned to work around it. Have done all our lives." She eyed them with some suspicion. "Are you _sure_ it was Eric who stole that book? He's never managed to actually _accomplish_ any villaining before."

They heard a few crashes from above and some whimpering.

"It does seem a bit far-fetched…" Raven admitted. She looked at her communicator, staring at the odd characters from the book. "Dragon writing, huh?" she murmured to herself.

"You like dragons?" Margaret asked, brightening up.

Nightwing coughed but the others didn't seem to notice. Starfire and Beast Boy were currently enjoying the sugar cookies while Cyborg just looked a bit confused by the moment of awkwardness.

"Not…really…" Raven admitted.

Margaret's eyes went suddenly very wide. Unlike Cyborg – who'd actually been there but apparently didn't remember – she somehow managed to translate the awkward pause for what it was. And it was likely she had some mild psychic power as well. _Great_. "Oh. My. GAWD! You've actually _met_ one haven't you?-!" She let out a squeal of delight that had less chocolate and more sugar and then leapt onto Raven. "What was it like?-! Tell me everything! How big was it?-! What color?-! Did you see it breathe fire?-! Did it talk?-! Was it a male or female?-! What were the color of its eyes?-! Was it Eastern or Western?-! Did it have wings?-! Do you have any scales?-! TELL ME! TELL ME EVERYTHING!-!-!"

"Oh, _him_!" Cyborg said, recollection finally coming.

Margaret switched targets. "You saw it too?-! Do you have any videos!-?-! I WILL SPIT-SHINE YOUR CAR IF YOU GIVE ME COPIES OF THOSE VIDEOS!-!-!"

Stunned as she was by Margaret's explosion, Raven's mind made the connections for her.

Well, at least now she knew why that book had been so familiar. And now she could also remember where she'd seen the writing before.

(8)

A/N: The pictures in the black grimoire are all completely random and will have nothing to do with anything in the future plot _at all_. I just wanted to waste your time. (Grins)

Coming up in the next chapter:  
I think I'd prefer shouting.

So, who all can guess what happened? Come on, don't be shy. Also, I'd just like to mention here that I did not make up the scratchy line-dot writing. Anyone who would like to know where it came from should refer to the intro author notes of chapter 1. If you can't figure it out…my sympathies go out to you, oh poor deprived reader.

Oh alright, alright! It's from Skyrim. I did warn you I'd be borrowing stuff (and no you won't need to know anything about Skyrim to understand any part of the story. Promises). Ah the freedoms of fanfiction. (Me Gusta Face)


	3. Dealing With Dragons

A/N: I'm changing a name or two. Does anyone care?

Also, I AM GETTING SICK OF THESE GNATS!-!-! AUGH!-!-! They are driving me crazy! Well, okay, _more_ crazy. AND THEY'RE EVERYWHERE NO MATTER HOW MANY I KILL!

Anywho, I'm gonna try to update at _least_ every Friday and Sunday with possibles during the week (typie-typie-typie). Unfortunately full-time-jobness means there's 8 hours in every given week day that I do not have to work on this (and then there's the editing). Real life is a pain like that (so much editing). Now, on with the fic (need more editing!)! Will you shut up? (No!)

(8)

**Chapter 3 – Dealing With Dragons**

Eric hadn't been able to find the book but he promised to keep looking. Margaret would bring it over to the Tower when/if they found it – though she still maintained that Eric was the worst villain ever that couldn't even steal a discarded set of shoe laces with any real success. So they'd gone back home and decided not to tell anyone about Eric. Sort of. Nightwing had that look he always got when he knew he was going to have to do any kind of communicating with Bruce Wayne. But, obviously, they needed to let Wayne know about Eric's episode and none of the other Titans had any desire to associate too much with The Man.

Raven was preoccupied. She had yet to tell her teammates what she now knew – or rather, what she suspected – about the book. In truth she couldn't remember it too clearly. It had been, what, 3 years? 4 years? Quite a while. That book had stayed locked up in one of the many architecturally uncooperative closets she had around her room (hidden behind tapestries, pretending to be walls, and so on) and she hadn't looked at it once ever since. She wasn't even sure which closet it was in anymore. Her room was definitely due for some serious reorganization. It was amazing just how much _stuff_ one could collect in this line of work.

She paced back and forth in her room, fighting with herself.

Dragon writing. Dragon writing! And the more she looked at it the more it made sense! The way the lines tapered; the way some of the dots looked like a claw had just poked it while others looked like the claw had scratched down a little so the dot would be a bit bigger without becoming an actual line. And all that being translated into book form. Why? And where was the book? Raven couldn't help but feel that Margaret was probably right and Eric hadn't actually managed to steal anything. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence that only two weeks after Eric tried to steal the book it actually _does_ get stolen; and by someone with magic wild enough that the display case just decided to explode rather than simply open. Any competent mage would have just broken the lock and nothing else. Humans did not naturally have a lot of magical power bar a few weird twists in the genetics like the Divan family had gotten stuck with. So you conserved what you had. Even Mumbo wouldn't have bothered destroying the entire case. Well, okay, maybe he would have. But if he was intending to make a scene like that then he'd have made sure they knew it was him.

It was no use, she was going to have to check.

_Alright,_ she told herself. _I'll just look at the book right quick; I'll even open it if it looks similar enough and I'll look for that picture…_ It'd been in a picture, the writing. There had been a huge stone slab sketched out in the book and it had had those characters on it – or so she thought. In fact, her recollection was so vague that she was probably wrong. Probably the two books didn't look anything alike she just got a bit confused by the simplistic design and the fact that they both had a circle on the front. _If he starts talking to me I'll just close the book right back up and put it away again. No, no I won't. It's been 3 years – 4 years actually. I'm past all of that. I'll just ignore him. I'll calmly ignore him and keep on looking for that picture. I won't say anything whatsoever and I won't listen to anything he says…if he says anything._ she decided.

Was she halfway _hoping_ he'd say something?

She shouldn't do this. She'd gotten over it but…well, this wasn't the kind of hurt that ever truly disappeared. You just learned to close the wound and live with the scar. In that case…perhaps she needed to do this. To look at the book…for closure or…something. Prove to herself that she was _really_ past all of this. Wait, no, she didn't need to prove anything. She wasn't going to do this for herself, she was going to do this in order to make a comparison between her book and the one that'd been stolen. She'd even take pictures with her communicator so she wouldn't have to take the book out ever again. Only she didn't care if she ever saw it again because it didn't matter. _Sigh_, no, it _did_ matter; because it had happened and it had _hurt_.

Raven stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and went over to one of her secret closets. She stepped in, and then stepped back out again. Wrong one. Now where had she put it?

After about the fifth closet she finally remembered that she'd shoved it behind some crates in the second closet and back-tracked. She levitated the crates out of the way and cleared a space so she could sit down and lay the book out in front of her. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind in preparation, and opened the chest.

There was no dust of course. The chest had been air-tight and, contrary to popular belief, dust does _not_ accumulate in places that have not seen activity in a very long time since dust is mostly made up of dead skin cells. As for the book itself…

It looked _exactly_ the same as the black book. Cover, circle, binding…everything. The only difference was the color. She picked it up and set it down in front of her so she could take a decent picture with her communicator. Then she turned it on its side. No, this one didn't have anything embossed in the metal band. She decided to take a picture of it anyway. Then she opened the book out in front of her.

So far so good. Maybe he was asleep.

"Raven?"

Or maybe she was just an optimist. She bullied her mind to stay clear and focused on the task at hand and continued to search carefully through the pictures for the one she had fixed in her head.

"Are you—hang on, you look different. Did you grow out your hair?"

There was the picture of Rorek himself, beautifully detailed with the same amazing shading techniques that had been in the black book. Raven appreciated art only as a hobby so if even _she_ could tell that this was done by the same hand then there had to be a connection. Not that she needed the pictures to tell her that.

She couldn't quite remember all of the story but she was pretty sure Rorek (who was called Malchior when she first read the book) went on some sort of journey where he came upon these ancient ruins sometime prior to the final showdown with Malchior and that was where the picture of the monument was. Where was that in the story again? She couldn't remember. She'd just have to flip through the pages until she found it.

"How long has it been…exactly?"

Ah, and here was the sorceress who had taught Rorek his magic. Raven thought that the monochrome woman looked a bit like an older Jinx might if she left her hair down and got some normal pupils. But the sorceress didn't have much of a role in the story beyond this point. There might have been some hint that Rorek fancied her at one time, but it'd been so long since Raven had read this that any romantic inclinations might just as easily have been her imagination. Didn't he fall in love with some sorceress in King Yord's court or something but it didn't work out because…?

"Raven?"

Here was a picture of an old woman Raven didn't quite remember. Hadn't she been a witch of some sort? Or someone everyone thought was a witch but in fact she was just uncannily intelligent and high on mushrooms? Or had that simply been Raven's assumption of the situation?

"Ah, the dreaded silent treatment. I see."

And there was the forest with the enormous tree in the center of it. Didn't it turn out that it was actually all just one really, _really_ big tree that simply grew out and up into different shoots rather than shed seeds?

"You look smashing, by the way. Long hair suits you."

Yeah, sure, a gigantic scaly lizard would honestly find her at all attractive. Pull the other one, it's got bells on. _No, no, no!_ she shouted at herself. _Ignore him! Just ignore him! You're only here for the picture!_

"Nothing? Truly? You're not even going to shout at me?"

And there it was, the image she remembered. It was a large stone slab with the statue of a dragon perched on top of it, it's wings swept out on either side. And she'd been right, the marks _were_ the same. She even recognized a few from her time staring at the other book.

"I think I'd prefer shouting…"

She picked her communicator back up and took a picture of the image. Then she decided to go through the rest of the pictures just in case there were other markings and _not_, on any account, so she could keep on listening to his voice. She was going to look, take her pictures, then put the book back and never mess with it again.

"You really have changed; but for the better I think. You certainly were not this powerful when you first picked me up. Of course…for someone of your age you were quite curiously potent even back then."

There was the image of Rorek and Malchior during their battle. Wait, already? She was barely more than halfway through the book. That was odd – no hang on, she hadn't actually read the rest, had she? Back then she'd just assumed that the story ended when the wizard defeated the dragon. But it looked like there was a whole other adventure beyond. Interesting, but she wasn't about to try reading it. Malchior wouldn't give her any peace if she tried. She'd just look through the pictures to see if there were any more with the 'dragon writing' and put the book back…then spend the next two weeks agonizing over what happened afterwards. Oh well.

"You're…not here to read the rest of the story, are you? Why now? How long has it been, Raven?"

She flipped a few pages and stopped. There was a ring of some sort here, a ring that was indicated by where the wispy hairline strokes that filled the page were not present. She stared at it and was about to read the bit of story that was next to it when suddenly the book snapped shut of its own accord.

"You don't want to read that, believe me. It's…very boring. Incredibly boring. There is general celebration across the land, Rorek is hailed the great hero, and everyone has to come by to offer their long-winded congratulations blah-blah-blah. Then Rorek gets married to some beautiful waif of a woman who was utterly worthless and collected incense ash for some odd reason. Nothing interesting. Nothing at all. Was there something specific you were looking for?"

Raven raised an eyebrow at the book. Okay, now that was a bit…strange. But the curiosity was too strong. She had to break her silence. "What are you hiding?" she asked suspiciously. "I already know what you are. What's the point of keeping me out now?"

"Ah! She speaks! Brilliant! How have you been getting on?"

He was nervous. She could hear it in his voice. He really did _not_ want her reading the rest of the story. And now she really wanted to. What could be worse than the revelation of his true nature? And why should he care if she found out anything more? This was all very strange. "Fine. Now open back up. I want to see that picture again."

To her surprise he did indeed flop open and turned his pages. But the picture he revealed wasn't the one with the circle. Instead it was the one with the monument. "You mean the dragon stone? You were quite interested in it earlier. Want to know what it says?" he asked eagerly.

He really _was_ nervous. Why—hang on, he knew what it says? "You know that language?" she asked him.

"It _is_ the tongue of my race…" he pointed out.

So Margaret was right. It _was_ dragon writing. Raven swiftly set her communicator to record audio. "Alright…what does it say?" she asked him.

Malchior cleared his throat (for effect rather than necessity, obviously) and recited,

_Gut los haalvuttiid  
Ok om volaas  
Rok naak ok kiir  
Alokgein filok  
Mahgein du rok  
Gutmiin faal pookgein  
Alok tiidkiin  
Kiin se kiin se Pahmonah  
Mu los hind_

_Neykronah Hetbriikah Maartuz_

That last bit was actually familiar.

"Don't you mean 'Necronom Hezberek Mortix'?" she asked him.

"No, actually, this is the original chant. Time changed it and it became recorded differently. Since the new version meant the chant lost most of its potency I decided to incorporate the change. Call it professional pride. It originally belonged to the dragons anyway. Rorel just managed to figure it out, _somehow_." he grumbled.

"Ro_rel_?" she repeated. "I thought his name was Rorek."

"Many names, especially dragon names, got a bit altered over the years. Obviously Ro_rek_ did not escape the alterations despite being the wrong species." He snickered, like he was indulging in some private joke. "In truth, my name is Mahkriiod. But it seems 'Malchior' is a lot easier for humans to pronounce."

"Mahkriiod?" she repeated. These dragon syllables were very strange – which wasn't much of a surprise – but workable. They seemed to roar slightly. That could just be her imagination, though.

"…Yes…exactly…" he answered, sounding somewhat uncomfortable for some reason. "But I've become accustomed to 'Malchior'. No need to change it."

"Alright, so what does it mean?"

"Well it's a bit difficult to translate but it's something like, 'The Killing Fall of Snow'." he told her.

"I was actually talking about the verse you recited." she said. She thought a moment. "Snow? You breathe fire."

"Yes, well, clearly my parents had their own ideas about what element I should favor." he grunted. "The verse then, right…give me a minute. A direct translation will make no sense so I need to put it together in a way you might better understand."

She waited for a few minutes, studying the symbols on the picture. Then The Killing Fall of Snow made a clearing-throat sound once more and spoke,

_Far is the touch of time  
His hair has no life  
He eats his children  
The first escaped  
The last devoured him  
See the putrid one  
Rise child of time  
You are the child of the child of Pahmonah  
There is hope._

_The fury of two mages  
Present in pride and beauty  
A terrifying blade_

"Though the translation of the chant is a bit…arguable." Malchior told her. "In its original form, the chant was intended to double the magic-user's potency as well as focus the mage's power into a blade-like edge, doing something to the magic that might similarly be achieved by a magnifying lens in sunlight. Tis very potent." he explained.

"Who is Pahmonah?" Raven asked.

"Some old dragon deity. I'm sure she has other names in different folklore, though. Even dragons traded their gods around."

"Dragons have gods too? I didn't know that…"

"It's not exactly what you would think. In truth the word 'god' is, more or less, just the word that was used for certain beings because we lacked anything better. Unlike humans, most magical beings did not actually _worship_ their gods. We knew better than that. We also knew that most human gods were just people with a bit more power than others. In such a situation one does have to sit down and really think about these old stories. In the ancient days humans had low qualifications for their gods and then completed the irony by having disproportionately high expectations."

She would have liked to know more, but she knew he was only being so helpful and chatty because he was trying to distract her. She wasn't having it. "Well, thank you very much. Now, about that other picture."

"Which one? This one?" he asked, turning to the image of him and Rorek (or Rorel, whichever) in the middle of combat.

"No, the one after that." She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping a finger on one arm in slight annoyance.

"There's just more words after that picture."

"I meant the one I was looking at just before you closed yourself."

"This is the one you were looking at."

Raven lifted an eyebrow, then narrowed her eyes. The book's sepia coloring faded into grayscale. It lifted into the air and she turned the pages with telekinetic force until she found that white ring again. Then she took the book in her hands, set it down with one hand planted firmly on the pages so he couldn't move them, and took a picture.

"You know…you really have changed…" Malchior said. He sounded unnerved. Good.

Raven poked the page with the white ring on it. "What is this?" she asked.

This time he didn't try to distract her. Instead he just said nothing.

"Alright then, I'll just read about it." she stated, turning her eyes to the text. Suddenly the off-white pages went completely blank. That was a bit of a surprise. She'd forgotten he could manipulate the book like this. Her surprise caused her grip to falter and, once more, he snapped himself shut. She only just got her fingers out of the way in time.

"I think you should put me back in the chest now, Raven." he told her in an oddly soft voice.

She stared at the book. "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with. It's nothing to do with you. It's nothing to do with anyone." he told her.

She bit her tongue and wondered if she could insist. She might be able to force the ink to come back. But…something in his voice…perhaps she should tell him about the other book? She hadn't intended to.

"Just…forget about it. Please?"

She sighed. Probably there was something personal he didn't want her to read and it was too closely tied to that white ring. She had found what she came here for, in fact she had a lot more than she could have hoped. The least she could do is honor his request for privacy. She picked up the book and placed it back in the chest.

"Raven?"

She paused in the act of closing the lid back, "Yes?"

"I'm sorry…"

She shut the lid, shoved the chest back into place, replaced all the crates that had been blocking it, and walked back out of the closet into her room.

She wanted to scream but she fought back.

_I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it. But I had to know, didn't I? Oh yes! I just had to be sure!_

She took several deep breaths and left her room. She'd work off her frustrations in the training room. She always felt much clearer after a good hard workout, even if her muscles _did_ scream at her for days afterwards.

After that she would tell the Titans what she found out. And she would tell them everything. Well, mostly everything.

Not, repeat: _Not_ the part where Malchior _apologized_.

(O)

Malchior wrapped his arms around himself in the dreamscape existence of his paper prison and shivered.

Was she angry? Gods he hoped so. It was the only thing he could think of on such short notice that might possibly enrage her to the point that she'd come back. Come back and shout at him, threaten to rip his pages out, to burn him, _anything_. Anything to feel her fingers on his pages again; to feel her magic lace through him in such a way…

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!

Of course, he had berated himself before. Who would have thought someone so young could have enough raw power for that curse? Who would have thought she'd be able to use it just by reciting the words? _He_ had thought it completely impossible at the time. He should have known. He should have seen it; should have paid more attention and realized that she was learning far too swiftly; had far too much magical stamina; was far too _potent_ to be an ordinary sorceress. But no, all he had been thinking of was his freedom. All that had occurred to him was that the faster she learned the faster he would get it.

But she had learned in weeks what should have taken years. She had conjured things with just her own power that should have required multiple additional sources. She had absorbed and understood concepts that some of the greatest wizards of his time had had difficulty with. And yet he _hadn't noticed_.

And now?

Before, she had been a child. Silly, lonely, easy to manipulate and use. She was a tool and nothing more.

And now?

Now she was different. Very, _very_ different. It was in the feel of her fingers, the touch of her power, the sense of strength settled behind those eyes. It was _incredible_. Oh, and her matured appearance was a bonus; he very much liked her longer hair. But that _potency_…if she had been like _that_ when she'd first opened his book – or perhaps if he had had the presence of mind to realize that was what she'd become – well, he'd have stepped out of that book as a man rather than a dragon. He would have patiently waited for _this_ Raven to evolve.

The way she'd said his name…his _real_ name…

Most humans horribly butchered the dragon language but the syllables had simply cascaded from her lips in perfect cadence. It was unnerving the way hearing her say his real name had affected him. He suddenly wanted to hear her say more words in his language.

_And you let her get away. No, worse than that, you practically __**threw**__ her away. Did she really mean so little to you?_ he snarled at himself.

_She was no more than a tool back then. Now things are different. __**She's**__ different._ he responded.

_Oh really?_

_She was nothing to me. It's different now._

_Then why does this paper heart flutter so? Is her power truly the only thing that stirs you now?_

_She was a tool back then. Nothing more. She's different now._

_Now? Now? What is different about now? Is it because she defeated you? Proved that she wasn't another weak-willed waif struggling to understand her own strange nature? If she'd really been no more than a tool, then why did you not simply kill her right away? Why did you toy with her? Why did you feel you had to take the time to tell her she was worth nothing to you? Why did you not kill her the moment you were freed? Why do you want her now? For her power? For her beauty? Am I the only part of you that has and ever will desire her for her soul!-? Truly am I a twisted pitiable beast!_

_Enough! I regret my actions and I admit my desire. What more do you want of me?-!_

_You only desire her now because she clearly has no more heart for you. You simply want what you can no longer have. You are a coward and a fool._

It was a terrible thing when your own thoughts were against you. Oh how he hated those thoughts. But he didn't have to give in. If he just ignored them like he usually did then he could keep going like this.

Or could he?

(O)

"So Malchior told you all of this? How come? I mean, did he ask for something in return?" Beast Boy asked.

"Nope," Raven allowed herself a small smirk. "Actually the only reason he decided to be so helpful was because he thought I was there to read the rest of the story. He really didn't want me to for some reason so he got very chatty about anything else I wanted to know." she told them.

Nightwing frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's he hiding?" he wondered, concerned.

"Something personal." Raven answered. "Based on the way he acted, that is. I never actually read the entire book so perhaps something happened in the true end of the battle between him and Rorek that was so humiliating he can't stand the thought of his enemies knowing. However…" she showed them the picture she'd taken of the odd white circle. "This was one of the pictures he didn't like me looking at. I saw this same picture in the black book that got stolen when I went to study it for Mr. Spander." she explained. "So there is _definitely_ a connection."

"Did you tell him about the other book?" Nightwing asked.

"No, I didn't. Do you think I should have?"

Nightwing rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "I don't know…if that black book has anything to do with the past he doesn't want you knowing about then wouldn't have given you any more help. But I don't like the fact that these two books are linked like this. And I _especially_ don't like that the black book is missing."

"Dude, you don't think that…maybe…there's another dragon?" Beast Boy asked.

"Raven, you studied this book. You had a good look at the magic on it. Do you think it could be possible?" Nightwing asked her.

She sighed, "Yes, I do. The magic on the black book was only visible when I knew it was there – just like it had been on Malchior's book. And I couldn't decipher it at all. It could be anything. It could very well be another sealed dragon."

"Oh that's just _wonderful_!" Cyborg exclaimed. "Any chance you could stick it in the same book as Big, Black, and Scaly in case the new one gets out and we can't recover the original book?"

"I am sure the Malchior would appreciate having a friend of his own kind. Perhaps he would not be quite so unpleasant anymore." Starfire said. Raven decided not to disrupt the Tamaranean's fluffy world views with anything so trivial as _facts_.

"I…don't know. To be honest I don't know too much about that spell. It might be possible and I will certainly try it if no alternative presents itself, but I don't think we have to worry about that quite yet. With any luck the actual thief won't have enough power or knowledge to release the dragon. And hopefully the dragon won't have enough magical knowledge to teach them how." she told them.

"One thing is for sure; we really, _really_ need to find that book." Nightwing stated.

Earlier Margaret had called the tower to tell them that the siblings had searched their home from top to bottom and found nothing whatsoever that could possibly be the book in question. So either The Great Can't had hidden it somewhere or it really had been stolen by someone else entirely. Margaret was absolutely certain that the latter was the case.

"Thanks for checking that, Raven." Nightwing went on. "I'm sure it wasn't an easy thing to do. Would you send me the picture you have of the dragon stone and the audio files you took? I should at least be able to crack the alphabet with just that."

Raven nodded. She had anticipated this and so was glad she'd decided to edit the audio into very selective clips. Anything that did not contain Malchior's recitations no longer existed. She sent these files to Nightwing's communicator with a few easy buttons.

"Thanks…" Nightwing shifted slightly. He was steeling himself for something, something he didn't want to do or say but felt he needed to. "Raven…" he began, "If you feel at all uncomfortable or reluctant with my next request then I want you to say 'no', but…do you think you could get Malchior to teach you this language?" he asked her tentatively. "All I want you to do is ask." he added hurriedly. "I don't have any real hope that he'll just teach you for nothing and, of course, freeing him is completely out of the question. But…"

"Worth a shot, right?" she finished for him in a deadpan voice.

"I just think if you knew the language then if we found this book again we would be able to find out what it really is and what connection it has to Malchior." he told her in a rush.

She thought about it for a moment. "He might get suspicious of my motivation." she said, though if she were honest with herself she already had an idea of how to begin her next conversation with Malchior. And it would probably involve shouting; just like he apparently wanted. "But I'll ask. I can't promise any more."

"Thank you." And then Nightwing's face took on the 'going to have to talk to The Man again' expression. "I…probably need to…"

"Tell Bruce Wayne?" she asked.

"He needs to know. Technically the book is his property but, well, if I were him…" which he practically was (and woe be to the fool that dare say this out loud), "I'd want someone who knows how to deal with dragons to keep it with them."

Yep, that would be only sensible. "Alright. Tell him everything…except the part where I fell in love with a giant fire-breathing lizard. You can leave that out." she stated. That worked; she got a few snickers and Nightwing grinned.

"Will do." he said.

(8)

A/N: That stupid dragon verse took a lot longer to put together than it had any right to, AND THEN I DECIDED IT NEEDED TO BE REWRITTEN! Not my fault, though! There is a limited available vocabulary for the dragon language that I am pulling from various Skyrim sources so I pretty much just hammered a bunch of words together and then plastered them with meaning that they only sort of have. I am very proud of myself for being able to yank out something similar enough to Rorek/Malchior's power chant and give it a bit of actual meaning. That took some doing.

So Malchior's name is going to stay the same but Rorek might shift around a bit and if/when (okay, okay, _when_) he shows up he will probably request 'Rorel'. Whether this wish is granted, however, remains to be seen. Right Beast Boy?

I just got finished watching Season 5 Episode 2: Homecoming Part 2 and noticed, at the very end, a truly epic fail. DID ANYONE ELSE NOTICE MALCHIOR WAS THERE?-!-?-! THAT'S TOTALLY NOT POSSIBLE!-!-! Nice job, Warner Bros., really. That's right up there with giving Tamaran a holiday specifically for friendship, and then saying they have no word in their language for 'nice'. I thought I saw a suspiciously Malchior-esque dragon in 'Titans Together' (yes, I watched the last episodes of Season 5 before the first ones. I'm sure I'm not the only one who does that) but I was going to overlook it. And then I saw the paper man in Homecoming Part 2! _Fail_ I say!

On the upside, all the logic leaps in cannon means that anything _I_ do can be forgiven. BWAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
'I told you I was sick'? Where can I get an epitaph like that?

Poor Malchior. The voices in his head are harping on him to be a better person. XD


	4. Talking In Dragon

A/N: Quiet. The kitty is talking…

Kitty: Quack.

0.o Scared now…and I still can't find the sugar.

PS: Would like to thank FelynxTiger for helping me out by getting the spelling right for Malchior/Rorek's chant (and providing me with many other spells). T'would be a true disaster if the spells had spelling errors. (Please tell me I'm not the only one who can't stop giggling at that…) And while I'm on the subject of spelling: Thanks much to Gabrielus Prime as well for the whole Zall-X'hal confusion in chapter 1. Good spelling is important people. One wrong letter in the word 'duck', for instance, and…well, you know…

(8)

_ When I opened my eyes to this world I knew that I was lost. I knew that my mind was broken and all memory had gone from me. I was no one. A nameless wanderer across the moorland planes. For miles around me there was nothing save for a stone tower towards which I pushed my aching legs to carry me. I can remember the chill bite of the wind, the iron gray of a threatening sky, the faded green of grass and moss under my feet, and I myself naked but for a ragged cloth tied about my waist. Here I was utterly alone; the knowledge cut deep. And it was a true loneliness for I had not even the name of my own mother to carry with me. I knew nothing, I was nothing. But as I came upon the tower and spied the ancient writing scratched upon the stone surface I found my mind filled suddenly with the words that I was seeing. From the deluge of words that roared like fire in my mind I forged for myself a new name to take in the event that my true name had been lost to me forever. I decided to call myself, 'Rorel'. This name I did carry with me in defiance of the abyssal loneliness._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 4 – Talking In Dragon**

There had to be some sort of sunshine quality to Starfire, Raven was sure. She had planted flowers, ferns, bushes, and, of course, _grass_. Things were growing; they were growing with great enthusiasm. Especially the grass. And somehow Raven had gotten roped into taking care of them with Starfire. Not that she minded much. Well, she didn't mind as much as she might have a few years ago. There was also the fact that the activity was putting off the time when she'd go back to her room and somehow get Malchior to teach her his language. She kept going over what she might be able to say in order to express a desire to learn while at the same time doing so in such a way that he didn't suspect that it was her real reason for opening the chest again. Gardening was good work for it. It was slightly mindless work that kept her hands busy so she could think.

Starfire was humming over the saplings as she searched for any dead leaves to trim while Raven tried to figure out why some bits of the grass didn't seem to be growing right. She watered it all evenly, didn't she? Oh well. She'd just water it. It was grass. Did you really need to worry much about grass?

"So…Friend Raven…have you spoken to the Malchior yet?" Starfire piped up hesitantly.

"No, not yet. Still trying to figure out what I'm going to say." Raven answered.

"Oh! I know!" Starfire then described a string of words that caused Raven to freeze up and drop the watering can. She slowly, very slowly, turned her head towards the Tamaranian Daisy. She was still smiling that sunshine smile that the plants were obviously soaking up.

"Starfire…"

"Yes Raven?"

"Where did you hear…you know what? Never mind. I don't want to know. Thank you though. That's…thanks…" She coughed, picked up her watering can, and went to go fill it back up so she could continue her work.

Seven years later and Starfire was still full of surprises.

(O)

He was aware the instant her fingers touched the outer shell of his prison. He allowed a moment of complete mental numbness so he could simply enjoy the feel of her power brushing up against him oh so delicately. It taunted him, giving him a taste of what was underneath and yet no more. Surely it was even more potent now than it had been the first time she'd come back. The memories he'd been reliving in these quiet hours were so pale compared to the real thing.

But he could not stay in this state. He forced his mind to work properly. If he ever wanted her to pick the book back up again, he would have to be careful and choose his words wisely.

She set him down in front of her but didn't open him up. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and glowered down at him. Her deep blue-violet eyes were cold with the seething anger that had caused her return.

"_Sorry_." she spat out at him. "You're _sorry_."

"All I have is words, Raven. Just words. What more do you wish?" he asked in a dead, resigned tone.

_Tell her the truth._ he snarled to himself. _All of it, every last bit from start to finish. And start with the truth about your lies._

_You stay out of this._ he snapped back, watching Raven's muscles tense and the fire lighting up in her eyes.

_Look at her! Still she rages, still she feels, still she could be yours if you were not such a coward!_

"Tell me why, then." she snarled, fingers tapping violently against one knee. She was practically bearing her teeth! Not quite literally, but there was the hint of it in her eyes and in the twist of her full dark lips.

"Why what?" he asked.

"Why any of it. Why you're sorry, perhaps." she answered. "Sorry because you got trapped back in the book?-!" she demanded.

_Admit it. Admit the truth! Tell her all of it!_

_No._

"I…I was…not…myself…"

_Lies. Lies! Your lies will burn you and it will be all you deserve!_

_Shut up!_

The finger-taping stopped. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

"Never mind. It does not matter. It is done and I…I have no right to ask forgiveness."

_At least that much is true._

_I said shut up!_

She glared at him still, her lips pursed. Silence stretched between them. He wondered how to break it. What would bring her back again? What could he say? What could he do?

Hm…there was one thing that might work. It was all he had, really. "You…seemed quite interested in the Draconic language earlier." he began slowly. "Would you like to know more, perhaps?"

Her eyes flashed with surprise, and then her expression hardened into a stone mask. Unfortunately for her there was no such thing as having no expression. Even a blank face was an expression in the right time and place. He smiled to himself within his prison. She _was_ interested, and she was trying to hide it. Oh to hear her speak the words…

"It is actually rather similar to your own." he went on conversationally. "Though with a far more limited vocabulary, so it is very contextual." He opened himself up, showing her a blank page where he began to scrawl words in his own alphabet in an effort to tempt her. "The first word is 'Dovah'."

"Dovah?" she repeated.

"Yes." he told her, proud that his voice remained steady. "It is our word for ourselves. 'Dovah' means 'Dragon'."

"So these characters," she said, touching the page with her finger. "What sounds do they make? There are five here but the word 'Dovah' only has four sounds."

"That is because, in your tongue, it would be spelled like this." He wrote the English version down below its Draconic counterpart.

"I see." She drew her finger across the symbols. He could practically see her matching them up in her mind. "So the letters are the same?"

"More or less. There are a few more vowels than in your alphabet and we don't work them quite as hard. Let me show you…"

(O)

In the mysterious fog of a mysterious graveyard there stalked a mysterious figure so mysteriously flitting from gravestone to gravestone in such a manor that, had there been anyone around to pay any attention at all, would have excited immediate curiosity in all present. Pausing by a particularly large gravestone he mysteriously drew out a packet of mysterious matches and lit one. Mysteriously!

"'I told you I was sick'?" he read aloud. "Where can I get an epitaph like that?" he wondered. Feeling he was rather letting down the tone he ducked down a bit so he was a more hunched figure and gave a soft chuckle. "Ah good, no more allergies. Ahem, those rotten kids will never find me here! For I, The Great and Mighty…um…blast it I still can't think of a name! Oh well. The Great and Mighty Me! Huh…Mighty Me, that has a bit of a ring to it there…Anyway! The Teen Titans will totally never expect me to be mysteriously skulking around in this mysterious graveyard, which has no mysteriously powerful grimoires at all! Bwahahaha—"

"Not unless someone reports seeing a weirdly dressed individual going out of their way to be suspicious, anyway." Beast Boy put in.

"GASP! The Teen Titans! But how could you have possibly known I would be here?-!" The Great Can't exclaimed.

"Someone please tell me he didn't just _say_ the word 'gasp'." Cyborg begged.

"People of this city have sort of come to terms with a lack of normality and know to report anything that's in the least bit suspicious and wearing a costume. There's a reason we never have conventions in places like this." Raven answered.

"Surely you must be in contact with a powerful medium and have been tracking me with the aid of spirits!"

"Uh, no man, someone _saw_ you jump the fence. You do know the gates aren't locked, right?" Cyborg asked.

"Only through great magics could you have possibly known I was coming here!"

"…"

"Someone call Margaret already." Beast Boy said.

"Hang on, why are you here in the first place?" Nightwing asked.

"Ah ha! You shall never uncover my master plan no matter what spirits you command! For I, the Great and Mighty…er…Me! – am so brilliant that not even the souls of the dead could fathom my ingenious plot!"

"Is that because you do not have one?" Starfire asked.

Can't froze. "No!-!-!" he exclaimed. "I do too have a plot! And you can't stop me!-!-!" He crafted a ball of spellfire and launched it at Starfire, who dodged. It hit a tree and dissipated. The tree was not impressed. Neither was the unknown and unseen figure hiding behind it.

The Titans surrounded The Great Can't.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos!" Raven chanted, crafting chains of black energy that shot forth like a serpent and wrapped sinuously around The Great Can't.

"This cannot hold me! I am The Great and Mighty Me!" The Great Can't declared. He then turned the chain to stone. Which didn't really help him…at all.

"Nice job, Great Can't." Beast Boy laughed.

"I am _not_ The Great Can't! I am The Great and Mighty Me! And you will—whoa, whoa, WHOA!" He lost his balance and fell back onto the soft earth. "Well played, Titans. But you have not seen the last of The Great Can't! I mean—I mean The Great and Mighty Me! That's what I meant! Yes!"

"Yes, we have him right here," Raven was saying into her communicator. "But we kind of want to ask him some questions first…you sure? Alright then." She walked over to the prone figure with her communicator held out. "Phone call for you." she told him.

"Oh, thank you!" Can't sat up and Raven held the communicator to his ear. "Yes, hello? The Great Can't—I mean, The Great and Mighty Me, speaking." The Great Can't said.

Margaret's roar was mostly unintelligible to the rest of them, though words such as 'idiot', 'moron', 'floss', and 'screwdriver' slipped through. The Great Can't tried to get a word in but it wasn't happening. By the time Margaret seemed finished he looked like someone had shoved him into a large clothes dryer and left him in for about ten minutes. Then Raven took the communicator back.

"Are…you done?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah, I'm good. Is his hair sticking out all over the place?"

"Er, yes."

"Then he'll tell you whatever you want to know. Drop me a text when you're done."

"Thanks." Raven turned off her communicator and turned to the mage. "Alright, Can't, where's the book?" she asked him.

"W-what book?" he asked, his voice a frazzled groan.

"The Grimoire of Lines and Dots, remember? Did you steal it from the museum again?" she asked.

"I did steal it…and then you stopped me. How…how did you do that by the way? I was sure I had you and then everything went dark." he asked her.

"What about afterwards?" Nightwing questioned. "The book is missing, did you steal it?"

"Um…I only tried that one time…" Can't told them.

"Wonderful." Beast Boy groaned.

"I cannot help but wonder _why_ The Great Can't wanted to steal this book in the first place." Starfire said.

Can't brightened up, "Oh! That I can answer! The dragon told me to!"

All Titans: 0.0

"Dragon?" Nightwing repeated.

"That's right! The Great Dragon told me to! She said I was to get the book aaaaaand…um…she'd tell me what to do afterwards!" he answered cheerfully.

"And it's female. That…that's just great. If there was one thing that could make this worse…" Raven moaned.

"What do you mean? Are female dragons more powerful?" Cyborg asked.

"Nah man, it's all gotta do with knowing about the animal kingdom." Beast Boy answered for her. "You don't screw with the ladies unless you want serious grief. I mean, bears, lions, wolves; and even when it comes to insects and arachnids. Female spiders are the ones with all the venom, lionesses are the ones that do the hunting – thinking about all that and it's obvious that a female dragon would be a lot worse than a male."

"But you're wrong about that!" Can't exclaimed suddenly. "Miss Tia is actually quite pleasant! To be honest it's been bothering me. A villain's boss is suppose to be mocking and sardonic when the villain fails, right? She just told me not to worry about it and that I did my best! That isn't right, is it?"

"Look, man, we've got our own book-bound dragon and, trust me, she may _seem_ nice but the moment she got outta the book she'd try to eat you." Cyborg told him.

"Did the Miss Tia tell you to come here?" asked Starfire.

"Uh…yes."

"To do what, exactly?" Raven questioned.

"I…don't know…" Can't admitted.

"Do you have any idea where the book could be now?" Nightwing asked.

"The museum?"

"We just told you it got stolen, dude." Beast Boy said.

"Try to keep up." Raven put in.

"Er, other than the museum I don't know. Sorry…" The Great Can't said with a cringe. "You know…this super villain thing really isn't working out the way I expected. Hey, do you think I could be a superhero instead!" he asked them eagerly.

There was a long silent pause in which Raven was furiously texting Margaret.

"Um…er…" Nightwing began.

"Oh come on! I am the Great and Mighty Can't! I mean Me! Evildoers shall fall to their knees and cower in fear of my great power! I can also cook real good!" He managed to get back on his feet through some small amount of levitation and began jumping up and down.

"Um…we'll think about it…" Nightwing lied.

"I see I shall have to prove myself to you. Very well then! I shall-whoa, hey, oh not this again!" The Great Can't exclaimed. He seemed to get all fuzzy, like a bad television picture steadily getting worse until no more than a shape could be seen. Then even the shape was gone, dissolved into nothing. Stone chains fell in a heap on the soft earth.

"The Great Can't as a Titan…I think that'd be the single best thing that could ever happen to the villains of Jump City." Beast Boy said.

"Agreed."

"Seconded."

"I'm scared now."

"_Groan_…"

(O)

Unbeknownst to the Titans there was someone else in the graveyard that night who had listened to the exchange with growing interest. This was, in fact, the unknown and unseen figure hiding behind the tree that had been hit with Can't's spellfire. He waited some time after the Titans had vacated the premises to emerge from the shadows.

"Strange folks, weren't they?" said a slow, gravely voice.

He froze, turned, and stared at the tree. "Did you just speak?" he asked the tree.

"Don't be silly. Trees can't talk. I should know." it answered.

"Indeed." the figure mused. He waved a hand at the tree. Violet sparks crackled about its branches as the magic was removed. The tree became no more than a tree once again.

The empowered ones of this time were certainly…interesting. But why did this curious 'Can't' believe he was following the command of a female dragon? Most likely it was some sort of delusion. He'd think about this later. Right now he had something else entirely to focus his attention on.

Amazing. He had simply come here for the quiet and vague familiarity and now it turned out the search he hadn't quite started yet was already over. It almost made him want to believe in divine province. Almost.

(O)

"Zu mindok hi. Zu'u Ruvaak." she repeated. "Alright, now what exactly did I just say? 'I know you'? 'I-I Raven'?" she translated.

"'Zu mindok hi' can mean, 'I greet you', 'you are knowable to me', 'I acknowledge you', 'hello'. It is, more or less, a standard greeting. Like saying 'hi' in your language. You are telling the other that you recognize their existence. You're nodding your head to them. As for the second part, 'Zu' means 'I', but 'Zu'u' is 'I am' or 'I'm'." he explained. "Zu mindok hi, Ruvaak. Kos sul sot viintaas?"

"'Hello, Raven. Is, day, white, shining?'" she translated awkwardly, raising an eyebrow at him.

She'd been quite proud of herself for having learned so much draconic vocabulary in such a short time, but the sporadic practical lessons were swiftly bringing home to her the realization that, even if the grammar was somewhat similar and the words themselves had easy English counterparts, the actual _use_ was incredibly contextual. Dragons made a vocabulary of less than 500 do the work of over 2,000. Malchior had already warned her that their language did not use the common small words such as 'and', 'the', 'is', and 'this' nearly as often as English did because the application of such words could completely change the meaning. From the little she'd already seen of sentence structure she could attest to this. She hoped she'd be able to figure out the pattern, but at the moment it seemed to her that these words were just plastered together and the dragons made the meaning up as they went along. It was a bit daunting.

"'I greet you, Raven. How are you doing today? I hope your day is going well.'"

Okay, it was _very_ daunting.

"How did that come out of 'white' and 'shining'? It sounds like you're asking about the weather." she groaned.

He chuckled. "That would be, 'Laan mindok lok aaz'."

"'Request, know, sky, mercy'." she translated. She sighed and rubbed her face. This was going to take a _long_ time.

"Just wait until we start combining words." he said.

A _very_ long time. She'd been stupid to think the small vocabulary would make things easier.

"Now, if I had said 'Zu laan mindok lok aaz', I would have been asking in a delicate and round-about way if you wished to fly with me. In a companionable way." he said.

"Why not just say, 'Fen hi bo voth zu'?" she demanded. Which, very directly, translated into 'will you fly with me'.

Malchior coughed. "Because _that_ is…er…that is rather…put it this way: That is something you would say only to your mate and _only_ when you are alone…and will be alone for some time." he told her, sounding _distinctly_ uncomfortable.

Raven kept her mind clear as a means of fighting against the blush that threatened to creep up when she realized what the English equivalent probably was. "Right." she sighed. "What's next?"

"In fact, there are quite a few different greetings ranging from, 'I greet you my treasured loved one' to 'Oh it's you. Go crawl back into the foul pit from whence you spawned'." he told her.

Raven couldn't stop the smirk. "Any good swearwords?" she asked.

"Like you would not believe. But most of them are combined words. Do you really want to jump into the combined words already?"

"Anything basic and common I can snap out when I'm frustrated?"

"Mmm, yes. One. 'Daanik'. Put it this way: the _polite _translation would be 'doomed'."

Raven smirked when she guessed the English equivalent. "Alright, teach me the greetings. Let's start with the foul pit one."

He chuckled. "Very well, but there was something I've been wanting to ask you for a while." he told her, sounding mildly hesitant.

She gave the book a suspicious look, "Alright, what is it?"

He flipped his pages over until he came to that odd picture with the white ring. There was no text next to it, but the fact that he was letting her see the picture again was…surprising. "This. I want to know why you were interested in this image."

She considered the image, wondering how much to tell him. "Well, mostly I wanted to know why you didn't like me looking at it. But there is another reason. However, I have a question for you. If you answer my question then I'll answer yours."

"Very well." he said with some trepidation.

"Have you ever heard of a dragon named 'Tia'?" she asked. It was a gamble, she knew. He might just realize what she was after. He might stop teaching her. However, she was pretty sure that if she brought what she had already learned to a competent linguist then they'd be able to translate the black book when they found it again. Perhaps not perfectly, but well enough to know what it was, surely.

Malchior, however, didn't seem to react much when he heard the name. "Tia? No, I can't recall any—wait, are you sure you don't mean Tiidha?" he asked.

"'Time Hunter'?" she translated curiously.

"Yes…it was a name she gave herself – which is not uncommon but often considered disrespectful. She was…powerful, but like her name suggests she hunted Time. Or rather, she hunted the god that was associated with time and as such had some power in it. I know her because I was one of those she attempted to gain assistance from. I refused, naturally, and am very glad I did. It did not end well…for her." he said.

Considering everything she knew about what happened to time when it was wrapped up in narrative causality in any supernatural sense, Raven asked, "When you say that, do you mean that she simply died or got trapped in time in some fashion?"

"Trapped, though I don't pretend to know much about that sort of thing. I imagine she is dead by now, though. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if she might have any association with that picture." Raven answered.

"None." he answered flatly.

_So why was that picture in the black book? Hang on, hang on, is she even—_

"Now, about my question?" Malchior prodded.

"I've seen that picture before. In another book." she admitted.

"Ah." Did he sound _relieved_? "I see. Old book, was it?" he asked, almost pleasantly.

"Very old." she answered.

"What was the paper made out of?"

"Look, what is this? I'm not going to tell you any more about that book until you tell me why this picture is so particular." she told him.

Malchior was silent for a long time, but he didn't close up and he didn't make the image disappear either. Finally, he told her, "It's a warning."

_**It's a warning.**_ She mentally shook herself.

"You're not going to tell me what of, though, are you?" she asked. "Or what it actually is?" For all she knew it could be an eclipse drawn by someone who just didn't have a whole lot of ink to waste.

"No." he answered flatly.

"It's not an eclipse, is it?"

"Raven, please," his tone was very odd now. He flipped his pages over so that the image was obscured and instead she found herself looking down at a pair of white, faintly cat-like eyes. "I know I am the one who brought this back up, but please do not ask about this. Ask me about anything else, just not this."

Her finger tapped the knee she was gripping as she began going through the possibilities. "Anything?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Within reason, naturally." he answered.

Her eyes narrowed, "Why are you being so helpful?" she asked suspiciously. "You know I'm not going to free you again; you tried to kill me. Why tell me anything at all? Why teach me your language like this? Why answer my questions when you're not getting anything in return?"

"I am getting something in return." he told her softly. "You're talking to me again."

Her fists clenched and her knuckles whitened. She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout, thrash him, tear out his pages and then keep on screaming.

She'd been neglecting her exercise for the past few days. She stood up, her cloak falling over her shoulders to conceal her frame. "It's late." she said coldly, though it wasn't really. She levitated the book back into the chest and slammed it shut before he could say another word. Then she teleported herself down into the training room where she changed into her workout clothes. She then proceeded to take out her raging emotions on one of Nightwing's punching bags.

Her abuse wasn't very effective. It'd take a lot more strength than her slender limbs would ever possess to really damage the thing. Of course, she could rip it apart with ridiculous ease if she were to use her powers, but that wasn't the point of this was it? Using her powers wouldn't be nearly as satisfying and the workout felt _good_.

She thought she was over this. And, to a certain extent, she was. But things like this always left a scar and that scar had just decided to give her a particularly sharp throb.

After an hour straight being alone with the punching bag, Nightwing was selected as the chosen sacrifice and pushed into the room by his so-called 'friends'. All three remaining Titans then whipped out of the training room in order to witness the exchange from a safe distance – though they were all giving Nightwing big encouraging smiles around the door.

Nightwing coughed. "You've…been at that for quite a while." he began tentatively. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Hi bo voth hi, Mahkriiod!" she snarled.

Nightwing most wisely decided that he liked his limbs where they were (A/N: Hey, me too!) and was _not_ going to tell her that she kind of…sort of…sounded a bit…dragony…right there. "So…um…are you…okay?"

"I'M FINE!" Raven rounded on him, completely unaware that her eyes were glowing red…all four of them.

"Kay." he said in a small voice. The next second he was out of the room and panting behind the door where the other Titans were hiding.

"I wonder if the Malchior insulted her hair…" Starfire mused.

"Let's leave her alone for now." Nightwing decided.

A string of unfamiliar but quite undeniably draconic syllables filtered out of the opening. There was something a bit unnerving about them and it wasn't _just_ that Raven was shouting them. They seemed…sticky. Like there was some kind of physical substance to them that was hanging around in the air. Nightwing shut the door.

"Maybe letting Raven talk Malchior into teaching her that language wasn't such a good idea…" Beast Boy mused.

"We'll wait until she's blown off all her steam and _then_ we'll talk to her." Nightwing declared.

(8)

A/N: If Raven's exclamation of 'hi bo voth hi, Mahkriiod' did _not_ cause you to laugh yourself silly then I demand you go back and re-read that entire segment until it does.

Also, I am TOTALLY making stuff up about the draconic language that does not belong to cannon and it is fun. I'm trying _not_ to make up any new draconic words, though, and that is a challenge that I have presently failed because there is, apparently, a word for 'your', which is 'hin' or 'him', but not 'you'. At least not that I've found online. So I had to improvise. Soon as I find the cannon word for 'you' – should it exist – I will go back and edit.

Isn't it weird that even though my writing has _vastly_ improved since Spellbinder ([Still needs work.] [I know! I know!]) my cliffhangers have sort of…died? Oh well! Maybe when the plot starts to get going the chapter endings will build back up to their traditional level of evil. BWAHAHAHAHA!

Quick message to Anon: Unfortunately I don't have anywhere near your knowledge of the DCverse so any involvement by the Justice League and similar is going to be secluded mostly to minor mentions and cameos in which I will very likely get things wrong should I decide to go into any detail. So I apologize in advance. I'm also trying to stay pretty close to the TV series (trying, that is. We'll see how long that lasts) rather than the original comics since the two are all but COMPLETELY different O.o. Oh well…

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Why can't she just rip me to pieces like a normal girl?

The voices in my head are telling me to kill the main characters. Don't worry, I plan to poison them so they'll shut up. (Pulls out arsenic) (Troll Face)


	5. My Own Crimes

A/N: Well the voices are gone, for now. So's what was left of my skin color. Good thing I don't mind being pale, huh?

Random Person: Oh no, it's a vampire!

Me: I'm not a vampire, I'm a dragon!

Random Person: Prove it!

Me:…daanik…

(8)

_The stone tower that was the first home my memories have allowed me was a curious structure. Rather than having been built of many stones lain together and held fast by mortar, the tower possessed neither mortar nor any sign that one part had ever been individual from another. It was as though it had been carved out of a single enormous rock. Soon enough I would learn how this was possible. Soon enough I would know why my shelter bore such enormous steps and wide chambers. Soon enough I would realize the true origin of the words that presently filled my mind and described my every thought._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 5 – My Own Crimes**

"Sorry! He told me he was _sorry_!-!-!"

"Um…the nerve of that guy?" Nightwing offered uncertainly.

"Does he honestly think that I'll trust him again?-! He's a gigantic scaly fire-breathing lizard!-!-! Why bother saying 'sorry'?-! Why bother saying anything?-! I'm never letting him out of that book again so what's the point?-!"

"Perhaps the Malchior is lonely?" Starfire suggested timidly.

Raven twitched at this statement.

"Or maybe the righteous butt-whooping you gave him made him want to come over to the good guys." Beast Boy said with a grin.

Raven doubted this statement with extreme prejudice.

"Or maybe Raven's right and he's just hoping you'll trust him so you make the mistake of letting him out again." Cyborg put in.

"Thank you." Raven said. Then she sighed and, before they could offer any more explanations (was it so much to ask that they just let her rant without trying to be _helpful_?), decided to tell them what all Malchior had told her about Tiidah, and about his question pertaining to the white ring. "He didn't seem to care a whole lot when I told him I'd seen it in another book. I managed to get him to tell me it was a warning but that's all he'd say."

"'Warning: here there be dragons' maybe?" Beast Boy offered.

"You said this Teda—"

"Tiidah." Raven corrected.

"Right, what you said. Malchior told you she was trapped in time. You think this not-exactly god she was hunting used the same method as Rorek?" Nightwing asked.

"Either that or this book has knowledge of how to free her." Raven said.

"One way or another, there's undoubtedly a connection between it and Malchior's book. I hate to ask you this, Raven, but we need to know more. If Malchior knows about this other book then anything he's willing to tell you about it will be vital." Nightwing said.

Raven did NOT want to open that stupid book ever again…at least that was what she kept trying to tell herself.

The lie she was trying to believe must have shown on her face because Nightwing added hurriedly, "No rush, though. Take a day or two off. I mean, I'm sure we'll hear about it if anything happens. The world's not going to explode this week."

"I know what will get your mind off the Malchior's undesired apology! A trip to Tamaran!-!-!"

The Titans all stared at Starfire.

"_Huh_?"

(O)

"**Child of Time.", "Hide your teeth.", "Can you hear me?"**

She turned over, trying to get comfortable. Nothing seemed to work.

"**Iron of the mind.", "They make a pretty sound.", "It's a warning.", "Hear me."**

Pillows…she got up, rubbed her eyes, and went out to the linen closet to borrow some extra pillows for her bed.

"**I'm sorry.", "Wisdom lost himself, became Time.", "Time eats his children.", "Hear me.", "It's a warning."**

More pillows. And blankets. She curled up into what was swiftly becoming a bed made of nothing but cotton-stuffed sheets and comforters.

"**Deep magic.", "It's a warning.", "Can you hear me?", "Child of Time.", "The first escaped.", "Hide your teeth.", "Become like me.", "Iron of the mind."**

Raven sat up, pulled out her communicator, and set it to play her music in an effort to drown out the voices.

"**Become me.", "Child of the child of…", "There's a better way. One way for all.", "Can you hear me?"**

It didn't work too well.

(O)

"You left the TV on all night _again_ you stupid grass stain!-!-! That costs money! You know what money is, right?-! It don't grow on trees!"

Raven could _feel_ the bags under her eyes. She had been dead tired last night after her war with Nightwing's punching bag and then, guess what! No sleep. She still had to pack too. Joy.

"I like to fall asleep watching cartoons, alright!"

Raven grabbed an apple from the fridge and chewed without really tasting it. Over on the other side of the kitchen Nightwing was apparently still trying to convince Starfire that this trip was a bad idea.

"Galfore will not postpone Vildyer's birthing celebration until after the Tia has destroyed Jump City." she stated primly. "And I am going whether my friends accompany me or not!" – which, when said in that tone, more or less settled the matter.

"THEN LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT A LITTLE THING CALLED THE _SNOOZE SETTING_!-!-!"

Lately the Titans had noticed that Cyborg was a bit more…irritable than usual. Even he'd noticed and he wasn't sure why. He'd checked out his software and hardware both but it seemed whatever the problem was – if it was a problem and not some sort of mid-life crisis coming on sooner than it had any right to – was probably in his brain. Well he _had_ found some odd oxidation on his arm a while back but a few carefully applied electromagnetic pulses had rearranged the chemicals just enough to take care of the problem. So whatever this was it wasn't that.

"I'm the one who needs my beauty sleep! Not the TV!"

Admittedly this was probably something he'd be shouting about anyway, but perhaps he was shouting a _bit_ louder than usual? In any case, the Titans had _mostly_ learned to just let him yell and get it out of his system. Unfortunately Beast Boy seemed to think that the proper thing to do in a situation like this was _argue back_. Oh well. The more Cyborg yelled at Beast Boy the less he'd yell at anyone else.

"Um, Raven, in case of emergency just how far can you teleport us all? From Tamaran to Earth maybe? Whoa, are you alright?" Nightwing asked her.

"Couldn't sleep again..." she grumbled.

"I guess it'd be kind of stupid to ask if anything was bothering you, huh?"

Raven managed a small smile. "Yeah..." Though Malchior wasn't exactly what was keeping her up at night…

She wondered if she should tell Nightwing about her dreams. But now probably wasn't a good time.

"That's the fifth time in a row, Beast _Boy_! Why don't you use the TV in your room?-! Don't tell me it broke!"

"Beast _Man_! And no, it's not broken! It's just not a big screen!"

"IT'S 33 INCHES YOU SPOILED LITTLE BEAN STALK!"

"I can teleport a few people from Tamaran to Earth if it's truly necessary. We'll just have to go back for the T-Ship afterwards." Raven told Nightwing.

"Any chance you could just teleport us there?" he asked.

"I'd rather not try it unless we have to. Popping up around the city is fine, but a distance like that is a bit tricky. One little mistake and we could be swapping eyes with each other. If we're lucky."

"Right..."

Sidestepping the fistfight that had broken out (which, considering the opponents, swiftly turned into a fist-and-claw/paw/tentacle fight), Raven made her way back to her room to start packing. Azar, she was tired. But maybe this trip would be good for her. Like a vacation.

Unfortunately she had this strong feeling that she should take Malchior's book with her. _Sigh_. So much for a break. She could go by Abby's real quick for a book bag. Hmm…it wasn't noon yet, though. She'd just pack everything else first. How long did Tamaranians celebrate a prince's birth? She'd pack for the week just in case. And she'd bring plenty of books. The kind that _didn't_ talk or contain giant scaly lizards.

It didn't take long. Telekinesis was a great help. She decided to take a nap. The designated time of departure was 2:00, so realistically they'd get on their way at around 4:00 or 5:00. She set her communicator to wake her up at 12:15 and curled up.

(O)

Mr. Theodore, Abby's father, was out in front of the shop tending to the lamp post. It looked terrible. Like someone had pulled off the paint in a fit of jealousy (how dare it look so glossy!) and underneath it turned out to be a mass of rust.

"What happened?" Raven asked.

Theodore looked 'round at her. "Oh, hullo Raven. Shoddy paint's what happened. Took a good look the other day and turns out there's a layer if rust underneath. So the city's pay'n me to strip the rust and re-paint it. With good paint this time." he said. Explanation given, Theodore went back to the task at hand.

Raven shrugged to herself and went into the store. Abby had a customer, and it was obvious at a glance that he was making her uncomfortable. For one thing he was actually rather attractive, – if you liked that sort of thing – for another he was _talking_ to her. And not just so he could buy something. Of course, there was also the fact that he was wearing a tight black T-shirt with a pink heart on it, a frilly black mini skirt, and thigh-high pink and black-striped stockings.

He was babbling about toasters for some reason but Abby's eyes shot to Raven the moment she came in and lit up at the sight of a possible escape. "Hi Raven!" she exclaimed, her usual sing-song tones taking on some tense, maybe metal, harmonics. "Are you looking for something in particular? Let me help you find it!" she said eagerly, her panicked eyes screaming for help.

"I need a book bag. One that can keep talking books quiet." Raven answered.

"I'll go see what we have!" and she practically fled to the back room.

"M-Miss Raven?" Eric Divan gave her a nervous smile. "Um. I uh…sorry about the other night…" he peeped out. "I wasn't too much of a problem, was I? I mean, you didn't send us a bill or anything so did I at least not do any property damage?"

"No, you were pretty harmless that time." she told him.

"Oh good." That sorted out, Eric's eyes suddenly grew bright and shone like stars, "S-s-so do you know Miss Abby very well?-?-?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes, I've been coming here for years. Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no reason…oh who am I kidding? I can't lie worth anything! I think I'm in love Miss Raven!" he blurted out.

Raven stared, eyes taking the shape of two capital O's. Several thoughts ran through her head, one of which wondered if she should draw Eric's attention to the fact that the door to Abby's back rooms was made of cloth and not wood. "You…what?"

"Margaret drug me here a day or two after my last episode and I can't stop thinking about her!" Eric's eyes misted over, "She's so cute! All her freckles and the way she sings when she talks and she looks so comfortable in those big sweaters and her hair is absolutely _amazing_! The things I could do with it…Miss Raven you have to help me! I've never felt like this about anyone before ever! What do I do!"

"Hang on, hang on, back up a minute. Aren't you…" Raven paused, wondering if she dared go further.

"What?" Eric asked, looking blank.

It was no use, she had to ask. "Aren't you…gay?"

Eric looked shocked. "What?-! No! Not at all! What on earth made you think I was?-!" he exclaimed.

Raven stared at him some more. _Well, the pink lip gloss doesn't help…_ and, apparently, this was now happening. To her. She sighed. "Alright, look, Abby's not a very chatty person and she doesn't like too much attention. That's why she runs a book store and doesn't sing in musicals or something. Here's my advice: First, wear pants. Second, don't smother her. Back off a bit and learn to tell when she's becoming uncomfortable. Don't come to the shop every day and don't stay here for hours trying to engage her in conversation. Third…are you taking notes? Why do you carry around a notebook?" which, she noticed, was pink and glittery.

Eric looked sheepish. "Oh, you never know when you might need to remember something." he answered.

"Riiiight…"

Abby didn't reemerge until Raven had successfully convinced Eric to leave and not come back for at least two days (_wearing pants_). Her face was bright red and the words 'HEARD EVERYTHING' might as well have been plastered across her forehead. She was also carrying a sage green book bag.

"This has extra padding and waterproof protection. It should muffle any talking books." she said.

It looked plenty big enough for Malchior's book, at least at first. Raven unzipped it and found that, on the inside, it was probably only _just_ big enough for Malchior. Well, if it wasn't she could always shove a bit more extra space in there. She nodded. "Thanks, this should work great. How much?"

"Um...valued customer gift?" Abby offered.

Which, Raven could plainly see, actually meant 'thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you'. She wondered why Mr. Theodore, who was just outside, couldn't have been called upon to handle the young Eric.

Then she realized the man probably thought Eric had been a girl.

This was going to be one major headache, wasn't it?

(O)

"It's a bit cramped in here…" Malchior's muffled voice was only just audible through the book bag's protection. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Tamaran. Now keep quiet." she ordered, zipping the bag up. His response was, fortunately, an unintelligible mumble that could have been mistaken for deep breathing. She then shouldered the bag beneath her cloak and turned off all her lamps. All the rest of her luggage was packed away in the various blue stones that made up her belt but she didn't really feel comfortable putting Malchior in any of them. She only had three enchanted stones and she hadn't quite gotten around to cleaning them out. For all she knew one of them contained a personal notebook that he'd no doubt read.

She walked down to the living room where most of the others were trying to organize their luggage.

"It's too big, man! We're not taking it!"

"_Dude_! I need a TV to fall asleep to, okay!"

"WE GOT TVS IN THE SHIP!"

"They're not big enough!"

"DEAL WITH IT!-!-!"

"Nightwing." Raven said, approaching the only sane individual in the living room.

"You all packed?" he asked. He was giving her a nervous smile; the one he tended to get when he was about to say something he knew she wouldn't want to hear. Raven decided to get her bad news in first, however.

"Yes. Listen," she pulled out the book bag and showed it to him, "I'm taking Malchior's book with us. Considering all that's going on...I just have this feeling that I shouldn't leave it here." she told him.

Nightwing's expression became one of supreme relief. "You know, I was thinking the same thing." he told her with a grin. Then he looked at the book bag. "That's a pretty big book..."

"Actually the bag is just well-padded." she told him.

"To protect the book?"

"To keep him quiet."

Nightwing chuckled.

"I am ready for our journey!" Starfire announced, carrying several rather large bags into the living room. From one of them came the distinctive sound of someone saying, "Beep!" in a far too cheerful voice.

Ah, right, the lorv-whatever. She'd almost forgotten about that. Raven's eyes trailed from Starfire's luggage down to the book bag.

"Raven? You've got a bit of…evil, on your face there." Nightwing informed her. "I know what you're thinking, by the way. And don't you think that'd be a bit…cruel?"

"Yes. I do. Your point?"

(O)

"Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!"

"Hell truly hath no fury..." Malchior muttered to himself, knowing full well that Raven had not, in any way, _accidentally_ left the zipper open. "Why can't she just rip me to pieces like a normal female?"

(O)

The T-Ship had undergone its own changes since long-distance travel had become a bit more frequent. Actually, that wasn't true. In fact they had had to build a completely new one. It'd taken a while. Raven and Cyborg had put their heads together and developed the Titans' first successful combination of magic and technology. They'd had to. It was the only way the ship could be made comfortable for long trips while at the same time maintaining the versatility of being able to separate for combat purposes. In its present whole form only one person had to steer in the large main chamber. However they each did have their own smaller rooms that could be split up into the separate ships when they needed it. Usually they stayed in the main area, or front deck, and they took turns at the helm. Autopilot worked just fine, but everyone agreed that there ought to be someone up front. Cyborg usually opted for this position during any time he wasn't sleeping, though Raven seemed to feel some proprietary attachment to the new T-Ship as well.

Currently, though, Raven was fast asleep along one of the long bench seats that took up either side of the front deck.

Beast Boy, Nightwing, and Starfire inched towards her and all three of them studied her intently.

"Raven?" Beast Boy ventured softly.

No response. She was fast asleep.

The three of them crept slowly towards the hall in unison. "Let us know if she wakes up, Cy." Nightwing instructed.

"You got it."

"Listen, I know this was my idea and everything," Beast Boy began as they crept along the hall – an act that they'd feel silly about later since they were sneaking into _Starfire's_ part of the ship rather than Raven's. "But if Raven finds out about this she'll flay us alive."

"Then we won't tell her." Nightwing stated.

"It's not our big mouths I'm worried about."

"I still do not understand why Friend Raven wished to place the Malchior with my lorvyak when she is still performing the raging against him. Can she possibly feel he must be rewarded for his helpfulness?"

"Er…maybe?" Beast Boy offered awkwardly. They slipped into Starfire's room and followed the cheerful 'Beep!'. Starfire opened the large lilac tote bag and extracted the pink and orange sphere.

"You must be quiet now." Starfire told the thing. She made a clicking sound and the cries of 'beep!' miraculously ceased. Beast Boy, pushing in next to her, reached into the bag and extracted the sage green book bag. It took a bit of doing but he managed to wrestle a white book with its iron bindings out of the tight confines.

"Alright Malchior, we've got a bone to pick with you!" Beast Boy declared.

"Oh sweet Maartuz, put me back in the bag with the infernal beep. I have not yet reached a necessary level of madness to deal with you." the book groaned.

"Ah! It _can_ talk!" Beast Boy exclaimed, dropping the tomb in shock.

"Owe…"

Nightwing put a hand over his eyes, "Beast B—Man, sorry, you've seen him before, haven't you?" he asked with a sigh.

"He was a paper dude back then, okay?-!"

"And everyone knows that books do not speak." said Malchior. "Three of you, hmm? And to what do I owe the honor?"

"You must be properly berated for your actions towards our dear friend Raven!" Starfire declared.

"Ah, I see. Tis a few years belated, don't you feel? Very well then. Would you like to start by calling me a monster or does the word 'demon' seem more appropriate?" he asked.

"You _are_ a monster!" Starfire said, picking up the book and jabbing at it with her finger, "You are a selfish lying dragon who cares for no one but yourself!"

"Rather the definition of 'selfish', don't you think? By the way, are you fully aware of your own strength? That hurts."

Nightwing took the book from her and leered at it. He wished it had eyes he could look into. He hated having only a voice to judge. "I want to know what you think you're going to get out of this, Malchior. We know Raven's been talking to you again; why are you helping her? You know she's not about to let you out again now that we know what you are. What's your game?"

"What do you want me to say?" Malchior demanded. He sounded tired and irritated. "That perhaps I really am sorry? That maybe I've had some time to think and I've changed my mind about a few things? Would you believe any of it?"

"Of a dragon? No." Nightwing answered flatly.

"Dragon? Oh _please_." Malchior sneered. "'Do excuse me for being an evil bastard; this is just what I am.' You can take your pity and shove it where the sun does not shine, serrah."

"Pity?" Nightwing asked, startled. "I don't pity you!" he exclaimed.

"It _is_ pity." Malchior snapped angrily. "It's a pitying kindness. The dread dragon is evil, the knight in shining armor is good. The knight slays the dragon and everyone is happy. That is how the story works. But by telling me I am evil because I am a dragon is saying that I had no choice in the matter; that I have no free will and am therefore not responsible for my own actions; that I should be pitied. That is what you are really saying even if you are not fully aware of it." he stated.

Nightwing's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"I do not need to be a dragon to be evil and neither do I need to be a man to be good." Malchior told them. "I committed my own sins. I am to blame for my own actions. It was my choice. In all things it was my choice. Blood does not rule me; nature does not bind me. I made my choices, my mistakes, and I face the consequences. That is what it means to be sentient. That is what it is to be an individual; a person. Do not say I am evil because I am a dragon! I am what I am because this is what I allowed myself to become. I am responsible and will not be excused from it simply because of how my race is portrayed in human literature!" he hissed.

Nightwing frowned deeply. "I'm having a hard time figuring you out. Are you defending yourself or condemning yourself?"

"Neither. I simply object to your assumption that my crimes are the result of some inexorable nature of evil that describes my race as a whole. Dragonkind, the Dov, have just as much capacity for good and evil as humanity. My crimes are my own. That is all."

_Sins? Blame? Mistakes? Consequences? Bad guys don't talk like that._ Nightwing thought. Then it hit him._ I don't believe it, he really __**is**__ sorry!_

"Hey, guys?" Cyborg's voice came up over the intercom. Starfire jumped and Beast Boy's hair stuck out all over the place. Starfire snatched the book and the two of them immediately began shoving Malchior back into the green bag. "Y'all might want to come up here and check this out." he told them calmly.

"On our way, Cyborg." Nightwing assured him, calmly taking the book and bag from the two panicked Titans. He slipped the book back inside.

"Nice to have this little chat. Do stop by again." Malchior's muffled voice said ironically. "Don't zip the bag up. Raven left it open, don't you remember? She certainly will." he cautioned.

Nightwing paused and returned the zipper back to its original state. "Thanks…" He put the bag back into Starfire's tote and then put the lorv-thing in there with him. They didn't have time to ask Starfire to get it to start beeping again. With any luck Raven will just think it stopped of its own accord.

Up on the front deck Cyborg had, for some odd reason, stopped the ship. Raven looked like she was waking up, but reluctantly. She rubbed at her eyes and gave Cyborg an annoyed expression. He just calmly pointed out the window in response to their questioning looks. "Wait for it." he said.

A few moments later a metal ball of some kind with a big eye made up of segmented lights glowing orange floated past. As it did so the ship's system picked up an audio transmission.

"SPAAAAAAACE!-!-!"

Not long after it had disappeared a similar sphere with an eye made of a single blue light went past.

"You have no idea how great it is to see—oh there's more of you! Hello! Can you hear me? Is there any possible way you could, you know, pick me up? I'd really appreciate it!"

(8)

A/N: Oh yeah, this is _so_ happening. Because I had to. Couldn't resist. Blame the dragon in me. (Me Gusta Face)

Yes, this is a minor Portal 2 crossover. Don't worry, it's just for laughs. The personality cores aren't going to play a major role in the story. They're just gonna flavor it a little.

Singing: This was a triumph / I'm making a note here: / Huge Success / It's hard to overstate my satisfaction…

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Plastered on the working end of a two-ton mallet.

Fair warning: I had a friend's graduation to attend Saturday and since the weekend is my biggest writing time I'm a bit behind and may or may not be able to update before Friday this week. Also, today happens to be Mother's Day and I am therefore gonna be spending much of the afternoon with MY MOMMY! ^_^ So yeah, we'll just have to see…


	6. Fire and Ice

A/N: So, everyone who has Skyrim on their PC has downloaded the Space Core Mod from Steam, _riiiiiiight_?

Be warned: There shall be a minor case of serious spoilers for Portal 2 in this chapter. Does anyone care? No? Great! On with the fic!

(8)

_ And in the depths of my fear I came to realize that this monstrous emerald-green creature was speaking with the very words that I possessed in my own mind. But I could not reply to its question. I could not even fully absorb the question it put to me. To this day I still remember the tinny taste of my terror; the certain knowledge that I was helpless and small and could do nothing should this being decide my flesh would become its sustenance. Never again in my present memory did I know such terror as I experienced in that moment when I beheld a dragon for the first time._

_~Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 6 – Fire and Ice**

Apparently Cyborg had stopped the ship because they'd come across some sort of wormhole. The odd thing about it was that, rather than sucking things _in_, it was all Cyborg could do to keep the T-ship from being pushed back into an asteroid field by the forces. Then these two had popped out and started orbiting the ship. They were inside the ship now.

"It is absolutely _fantastic_ to see people again, I really can't tell you. I have been stuck out in space for god-knows-_how_-long with no one to talk to but this core over here."

"Space, space! Where's space? Can't find space! Bring back space! Want space! Space!"

"And that's what I've been having to listen to all this time."

"Why do you have a New Zealand accent?" Raven asked.

"I dunno. What's New Zealand?" the blue-eyed ball asked.

"What _are_ you two?" Cyborg asked them.

"We are artificial intelligence personality cores." Blue Eye one told them. "State of the art. Absolutely perfect, _in_ every way."

"Space! Go back to space! Spaaaaaace!-!-!"

"We're still in space!-!-! Okay?-!" Blue Eye exploded.

"Oh…I'm in space…"

Blue Eye sighed. "Alright, so, maybe there are some _minor_ defects that were, perhaps, major enough to get us jettisoned into space…"

"SPAAAAAAACE!-!-!"

"But we can learn, right? Artificial intelligence means that I will never again try to take over any major facilities, completely ignore the nuclear power safety procedures, or try to kill anyone who only ever did everything they could to help me. Nope! Never again! I learned my lesson. So…ah…my name's Wheatley!"

There was silence.

"Can we keep them?" Starfire asked eagerly.

"Oh, yes! Can we? Can we? Can we?-!" Wheatley asked eagerly.

"Uh…"

(O)

Raven's temper had improved with her nap, though not, necessarily, with the addition of the Personality Cores. But she decided to have mercy on Malchior anyway. She retrieved him from Starfire's bag only to discover that the lorvyak had apparently stopped saying 'beep' for some reason. Daanik, oh well. She zipped him up before he could say anything and shoved him under the small but serviceable bed in her T-Ship room. Then she went back to the main deck and the brand new chaos that was the AI Personality Cores.

"For the last time, you are NOT fly'n mah ship!"

"Oh come on! Just give me a chance! I'd make a great pilot! Just hook me up to the main controls and let me have a spin. I mean, how hard could it be?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"ALIEN! YOU'RE AN ALIEN! FROM SPACE!-!-! SPAAAAACE!-!-! AAAAAAAH!-!-! ZZT—"

"Dude, did it just fry its own circuits?"

"Alright, alright, what about the defense systems?"

"No way man! I ain't hooking you up to anything until I know you're not loaded with weird inter-dimensional viruses or someth'n."

"I hope the Space-loving sphere comes back soon…"

"Space? Space?-! SPAAAAACE!-!-!"

"Glory be! It has returned to us!"

"ALIEN! YOU'RE AN ALIEN! FROM SPACE!-!-!"

On second thought, maybe another nap wouldn't be such a bad idea.

(O)

"**Why? Why do you refuse me?-!"**

"**Depart from me and mine. Burden me no more for I shall grant you none of which you ask."**

"**That is your final word, is it? Then I shall simply take your knowledge as my own!"**

"**Is this all the world is to you? Force? Might makes right? You have learned far too much from the wrong sort of human. Return when you have made peace with Iiam Bormah. Only then will I teach you."**

"**You cannot ignore me! YOL!"**

"**Fire? So impatient and impetuous. Destructive and forever hungry. Your fire shall consume you. FO!"**

"**The chill of ice is biting but it cannot compare to the true power of life, Old One!"**

"**Life? Our life is not a fire. What do you know of the forces that move our very blood? Do you think it be magic? It is not. It is the voice and breath of Iiam Bormah in the blood of Maartuz!"**

"**I have not come for a sermon, Old One! YOL!"**

"**Then you have come to die. Neykronah Hetbriikah Maartuz!"**

She woke suddenly. Fire and ice were clashing in her head; there was a roar of dragons; the words became things in the air as they twisted and erupted into reality. She was panting, shuddering, shivering, and sweating all at once. It was as though the heat and frost were both in her own body at once and were twisting around something else; something that felt like a fever deep, deep inside.

_Neykronah, Hetbriikah, Maartuz.  
The furious power of two, here is pride and beauty, a terrifying blade._

What in Azar's name…?

_Fo  
Ice: the slowing of life, the end of energy, the void of all movement._

This wasn't the same as learning the words from Malchior. It felt like…like she was being branded in the mind with knowledge. But why? How?

"**Can you hear me?"**

She blinked. What?

_Yol  
Fire: the pulse of life, the hunger of energy, heat and movement and the thrumming heartbeat of vitality itself._

Okay, where had all _that_ come from? And was it over yet?

She waited, staring up at the general lack of aesthetic furnishings provided to her by the T-Ship's ceiling. Then she leaned over the side of her bed and began blindly hunting underneath for the green book bag.

"I just had a dream about two dragons fighting. With words. Is that normal?" she asked the white book.

"Considering some find it normal to dream about their socks coming alive and eating their toaster ovens while giant marshmallows go fishing in their backyard, is there any particular reason you find the idea of two dragons fighting unnatural?" he asked.

She paused. "Where did you hear about a dream like that?" she asked.

"I can read other books that are around me. Copy them too, when I've a mind to. But, well, I was gathering dust in a low-end book store for quite a long time before you picked me out. I overheard some _very_ interesting conversations. Anyway, you were saying?"

"Right…the thing is they weren't exactly fighting with their claws and teeth. They were saying Draconic words and things were happening." she explained.

"Ah…yes, that is called the Thu'um or 'storm voice'. Words bearing power, though you need more than mere knowledge of the word itself to use it in a Thu'um. It is a bit like shouting 'fireball' or 'magic missile'. The word by itself is not going to do you much good." he told her.

She thought about this. _No,_ she realized, _that's a lie. A useful lie but it's not like that at all. In the latter case, saying the word 'fireball' is no more or less than a means of focusing your mind upon the spell. Once proficiency is acquired you can cast the spell without the word. But these words have the power in and of themselves. You don't need to learn a spell; you need to learn the word. And simply knowing what it means isn't exactly enough._ But she decided not to relay any of this to Malchior. Right now she wanted to know why she was having these dreams. "But you haven't told me about the Thu'um before. Why am I dreaming about it?"

"You are a powerful sorceress, Raven. And you have a gift for the Draconic language that one does not often see in humans. You are also learning said language very fast. Combine these facts with an additional fact – that you decided to fall asleep with me under your bed – and we could assume that you unintentionally absorbed some bits and pieces of my knowledge in your sub-conscious state of mind and this is the result. Either that, or your mind, with some prior knowledge you may not quite be aware of, made a few connections in your dream that just happened to be true. Perhaps you learned of the Thu'um, or something like it, elsewhere and simply forgot."

"Right…" She sighed, laying the book on her stomach because she was too lazy to put it back in the bag. She was so tired but she kept having these odd dreams with their sticky words and she wasn't getting any sleep. What was the point? If they were suppose to be prophetic of some kind then she didn't understand any of it. She wouldn't until sometime after encountering whatever the thing had been alluding to. It was so irritating. And really, really pointless. "Would a normal night's sleep be so much to ask for?" she mumbled to herself, completely forgetting about the book.

_I am lost in the mire of doubt and knowing  
Your wing is elsewhere  
My cup bears the death of iron  
Time, where is your knowledge now?_

Was someone singing? Sounded nice. Very nice…though a bit strange. The words didn't rhyme. Admittedly some of the songs she listen to didn't always rhyme their words and they made it work.

_Must we wake from the nightmare in fire?  
So be it  
Better fire/stone of time than ice of shining hand  
_

_Love of Mother hold our hearts forever  
But she is the dream I breathe to live  
So strong the trail of scent  
I would follow into circles and lay without salt_

_Must we wake from the nightmare in fire?  
So be it  
Better fire/stone of time than ice of shining hand  
_

_See the world is a bird of fire  
But we are here and this is now  
My stone hands are yours  
I seek you to the end; time is red white_

_Must we wake from the nightmare…_

(O)

Later on, the T-ship landed on Tamaran in a state of some…difficulty.

"HOW?-! HOW IN THE WORLD DOES A TALKING METAL BASKET BALL WITH NO ARMS AND NO LEGS MANAGE TO CAUSE SO MUCH DAMAGE?-!-?"

"He helped!"

"Dude! Squealing much?-!"

"Oh don't worry! I got my eye on you too, Grass Stain!"

"In my defense, it sounded like a good idea."

"ONLY BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A GEAR AND A WRENCH IF IT SMACKED YOU IN THE FACE!-!-!"

"It _was_ a good idea! It's not my fault the laws of physics happen to be _exactly_ the same in this dimension as they were in mine. Anyone could have made that mistake!"

"I don't suppose there's any way you could 'accidentally' send them back to their own dimension without Starfire knowing?" Nightwing asked Raven out of the corner of his mouth.

"Wheatley maybe. The other one…"

"Space, are we in space? See space. Go to space. Where is space?"

"We are on my home planet Tamaran! That is where we are."

"Tamaran not found in database. Planet unknown! Alien planet unknown! Alien planet! In space!"

"But here _you_ are the Alien." Starfire told him.

"Alien? I'm the alien?-! I'm an alien!-!-! From space!-!-! SPAAAA-zzt"

"Awwww...come back little space-loving ball."

"Yeah, good luck with that." Raven said.

A beam of green light shot through the Titans. It shot between Beast Boy and Nightwing, narrowly missing them. It left a sizzling black spot on the bridge a few yards behind them. That seemed to be the crack that broke the dam because suddenly all hell broke loose. That is to say, a very flashy and colorful form of hell broke loose. Beams of green, orange, yellow, purple, and even pale blue star bolts were being unleashed out of each window and shouts of wrath could be heard from every opening. The Titans tensed for battle, and then Raven spotted the thousands of pieces of stray debris that were fluttering down from the windows. She caught one of them; a particularly large and very colorful bit. From a distance one might have mistaken it for confetti, but up close it had the distinct look and feel of a Tamaranian window cover.

Starfire let out a squeal of delight which caused the remaining three Titans – who were still in the dark – to relax a little. "Oh glorious! We have arrived just in time for Gorb-Gorb!-!-!" the native declared.

_Gorb-Gorb…_ Raven realized what her mind was trying to tell her. "The...Tamaranian festival of berating draperies?" she recalled. The others all looked at her.

"Yes! We must hurry before all the curtains have been destroyed if we wish to participate!-!-!" Starfire exclaimed.

"Finally! A holiday that actually makes some sense! I never liked curtains, you know. Always so smug. 'Nya, nya, I'm covering the window. I look nice. I'm all flat and easy to carry but you're a big bulky metal ball with no aesthetic value!' Let me at those curtains! I'll teach them to mock me!"

"And all this time I thought she made that up to hide Silkie..." Raven mumbled blankly.

There were plenty of curtains for everyone to abuse, as it so happened. In fact the Earth party were all presented with large expansive curtains made specifically for their use in the spirit of the festival. A spare curtain was even produced for Wheatley – who was an object of immediate fascination for the Tamaranians – but all he could really do to it was sit and yammer at it incessantly, constantly going off on tangents about any little thing that came to mind. This, however, seemed to be sufficient for the Tamaranians and they egged him on.

The Space Core was continuously frying his own circuits – which somehow repaired themselves soon after – over the fact that _he_ was the alien. It was a shame since he seemed to be almost as widely adored as Starfire's lorvyak – whose primary function, it was revealed, was to say the same thing over and over again. Apparently this was an important quality in all Tamaranian toys. Not something they simply _did_, something they _needed_ to do to be toys. And thus Starfire's lorvyak was received by Galfore with the air of someone who was being gifted the crown jewels of Great Britton.

It wasn't as bad as Raven had anticipated. In fact, she found that she quite enjoyed Gorb-Gorb. There was something oddly satisfying about ripping something to pieces like this and getting a loud cheer in response. The four alien Titans were presented with even more curtains to rip apart because their methods were, naturally, different from the norm and therefore greatly entertaining. Raven had to be asked several times to put more feeling into it and it took her three tries before she realized this meant they did, indeed, expect her to _shout_ at the inoffensive cloth (something that Cyborg was doing with more enthusiasm than even Starfire). So she'd spouted out a few made-up phrases in Draconic that sounded adequately profane and had enough roar in them to get a particularly loud cheer.

"That felt good." she told the wide-eyed Titans.

"Do it again!" Starfire exclaimed.

The Titans, all save Starfire, slept in the ship this time around. It was just easier for them since not even Raven could figure out the furniture. They had conveniently forgotten Wheatley, but apparently the Tamaranians only had so much tolerance for spheres that didn't constantly repeat themselves and he was returned to them soon enough.

Raven let the boys deal with the blue-eyed ball and went to her room to get some sleep for the celebration tomorrow. They'd yet to actually see the baby boy in question, but presumably they'd see him during his own birthday party tomorrow.

"Raven?"

She paused and looked around the small room in surprise. Then she saw Malchior's book poking out at an angle from beneath her bed. She pulled him out. "Didn't I put you back in the book bag last night?" she asked.

"You forgot to and I sort of fell on the floor. Listen, is there another dragon in this Tamaran place?" he asked her curiously.

"Er…you heard that?"

"Not so much heard as _felt_. What happened?"

Raven found herself coloring with embarrassment. "It's, um, the Tamaranian Festival of berating draperies, called Gorb-Gorb. I was getting into the spirit of the thing."

"That was _you_?"

"Did I say something wrong? I was more or less shouting random words. The Tamaranians certainly liked it."

"I…no I didn't actually hear the words…like I said I simply felt it."

She frowned at the book. "I sounded, or felt, like a dragon to you? I'm not a dragon, though."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked.

Raven stared at the book for a full two minutes. Finally she said, "I'm sorry, I can't think of a non-cliché way to react to this question. What do you mean, _am I sure_?-!" she demanded. "Is it possible you missed my general lack of scales and fire-breath?-!"

"Ah…well, you see…"

One rather awkward yet greatly informative explanation later…

"Dragons can transform into humans." Raven recapped blankly.

"That's not _exactly_…well, close enough. Yes."

"Why?" she demanded flatly.

"It's a very common and convenient shape, I suppose. Not all of us can do it, though. It's like being able to whistle or sing. Not everyone can and some have to put in more effort to do it than others."

"I meant: Why have another shape at all?"

"We don't really know. There are stories, but they're like those stories humans use to come up with to explain why they have five fingers and so on. 'Once upon a time the great dragon Maartuz spied some human children and he wished to play with them. But they wanted to play in a small cave that he could not fit in so the children took some clay and made a human figure for him to wear.' You know, that style of thing." he told her.

"And you think it is at all possible that I could simply _not know_ I'm a dragon?"

"Well, you told me about your mother but I got the impression your father was never around. If he had been a dragon and simply did not tell your mother…"

"Wouldn't that make me only _part_ dragon, then?"

"Mmm, it's a bit more complicated than that. The whole genetic thing doesn't follow the same rules that would apply when, say, an Irish man and an Asian woman decide to marry and have a child that comes out with curly red hair and almond shaped eyes." he told her.

"Still, I have a hard time swallowing the idea that I could be a dragon and not know it. I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed something by now."

"You wouldn't be the first."

"No. My father wasn't a dragon." she stated.

"Are you sure?"

"He wasn't a dragon." she repeated in a tone that clearly said, 'thus far and no further'.

Malchior couldn't take the hint. "Oh really? What was he then?"

"That white ring you don't want me knowing about, is that a personal thing or just generally unlucky?"

"Alright, alright, no talking about your father. Understood."

She set him down on the small desk of her little room and removed her cloak and belt to hang up by her door. She then sat down on her bed, summoned a hairbrush, and began preparing her hair for a braid so she wouldn't have to spend too much time brushing it in the morning.

"So…we are in Tamaran did you say? What sort of country is that?" Malchior asked her conversationally.

"A planet. Starfire's home planet to be exact. She drug us here for the celebration of the new prince's birth." she explained.

"Ah…I see…"

Raven waited, knowing the question would come but deciding to answer it only after he'd actually asked it.

"You don't _usually_ take me on trips like this. Any…particular reason for the change of beat?" he asked delicately.

Should she tell him? Well, she did need to ask him about the black book. Now was as good a time as any. "Actually, there is." she told him, coming to the end of her braid. She tied it with a spell and tossed it behind her back. "Would you happen to know anything about another book that looks exactly like yours, but black and only has dragon writing in it?" she asked him. "It was stolen from a museum under rather suspicious circumstances not long ago."

"…I see…" he said after a pause. "That would be the real reason you have been talking to me again, yes?" he asked. His voice sounded almost…dead.

"Pretty much." she answered, giving the book a steady look of challenge.

"I see." he repeated, his voice still deadpan and flat.

There was a moment of silence in which a pseudo battle of wills was going on. No matter which way the situation went, however, Raven was not going to lose. In one outcome Malchior would continue to tell her what she wanted to know so she would keep talking to him. In the other he ceased his helpful behavior and she shut him back up in the chest; for good this time. She did not have to offer him anything and she wasn't going to. The only thing she feasibly _could_ offer him was his freedom, after all. And that was flat out of the question.

Finally, he spoke. "There were two books, as it so happens. The white book was Rorel's diary; or rather his memoirs since he wrote much of it some time after the earliest events took place. The black book was his grimoire, which he wrote in Draconic. If you remember the beginning, it was the first language he knew since losing his memories. As it turns out he had a rare talent known as the Gift of Tongues. In truth he wrote both books in Draconic so no one could read them, but I realized quite swiftly that I was never going to get around in human society if my pages didn't make some sense to my prospective owners." he explained.

"Do you think Rorek's—I mean Rorel's grimoire would have a dragon trapped inside as well?" she asked.

"Considering he undoubtedly detailed the very spell he used against me within that book I would have to say that, yes, it _is_ likely." he answered. "It is simply not the traditional method of dealing with dragons. It is a lot of work to go to and, obviously, this version of that curse does not actually _kill_ the dragon in question. The original method was meant to be used against gods."

"_Gods_?"

"Remember what I told you about most human gods simply being powerful people? Well, that was not true of them all. Do you know of the gods of Greece and Rome? The entire religion of these people consisted of little more than trying to keep the gods from crushing them. And even then one was always at the mercy of the capricious whims of these beings. Well, there's only so much people are willing to take before they simply won't anymore and some sorcerers developed a spell that would trap the gods in words. After that the sorcerers used the power in these scrolls to either destroy or drive away all the other beings associated with the hated deities. People still worshiped them for centuries after, of course. Old habits die hard. And, come to think about it, perhaps the fact that they were no longer being horribly abused by these now curiously absent gods only helped matters.

"Anyway," he continued, "Rorel managed to find one of the scrolls in his travels and learned the method from it. He did not, however, describe this scroll in much detail in his diary. He left that sort of thing for his grimoire." he explained.

"I did wonder where he got that spell. So where are these scrolls now?"

"Gone, destroyed, or used up. I imagine some of them were tossed into random, uninhabitable dimensions. Others were rooted out by various churches and destroyed by holy water or virgin tears or something – I'm not going to pretend I know the exact method or even why it worked – and others were simply used until the gods' powers ran out. The lattermost option ended Rorel's scroll. There wasn't much power left in it to begin with anyway."

"So if I understand all this correctly, then the only reason someone would go to these lengths would be to get rid of a particularly powerful dragon." Raven guessed.

"Indeed. Do you have reason to believe Rorel's grimoire contains another dragon?" he asked.

"We do but…it's not exactly hard evidence. Just guesswork from what we know about you and your book." She thought for a moment. "But if this spell is powerful enough to trap gods…how come I was able to use it just by reading about it?"

"That _has_ been bothering me. There are two reasons that I can think of. Either I am a better teacher than I thought I was and you were learning things about that spell that I hadn't _actually_ meant you to absorb, or…"

"Or?"

"Or there's something in your lineage that you're not telling me about. But I'm not going to ask. I can take a hint."

_When it's plastered on the working end of a two-ton mallet._ she thought. "Is it possible anyone in this time might still know the Draconic language?" she asked.

"I couldn't say. So far as I've been able to tell the language has simply died. During the dragon hunts I believe all the dragon stones, towers, castles, and similar were decimated and any books containing the characters were subsequently burned. That's what we call the cycles of civilization. Literacy is born and then it dies just like anything else. Small-minded people fear those with the power of the pictures that make sounds and decide that if they don't have that power then no one should. And there goes all the records one might have had for your reality – meaning that to all future generations you never existed. You know how these things work. Of course, if the High Priest hadn't disappeared then the dragon hunts might not have happened; but we always wonder if things might have been different if this or that had or hadn't happened, don't we?"

"Yeah…" she agreed. "I should probably get some sleep now." She reached over for the book, intending to return it to the book bag.

"Shall I sing to you again?" Malchior asked hurriedly.

Raven paused. "What?"

"You woke quite restful this morning when I did so last night. Perhaps your dreams will be untroubled if I do so again?"

"Er…you were…singing last night? I don't remember…" though she did remember _something_.

"Then clearly my talent has not wavered, for you would surely remember it had you heard an unpleasant singing voice." he remarked.

She hesitated. "What…sort of songs do you know?"

"Many. I enjoy singing. It was one of the ways I passed the time apart from reading the various texts that I came into contact with. I have even managed to translate some Draconic songs into English versions – though the wording is a bit awkward, as you might imagine." he told her.

She was curious. In fact, she'd rather like to hear some Draconic songs. Especially if they were sung in a way she could understand. But the thought of Malchior singing to her was…uncomfortable.

"Maybe another night." she said, picking up the book.

"Very well." he said, sounding resigned. She fit the book back into its green bag. "Good night." he managed to get out before the zipper closed him off completely.

(O)

For the past few days since he realized the location of his goal he had been watching the T-shaped tower. He waited for night to fall and the lights to fade in the sleep of its inhabitants. But there was always one splash of lights flickering in that central window. There was always at least one individual who did not sleep and he did not dare enter the tower with any waking minds that might sense him – particularly if that waking mind happened to be the sorceress. And then, finally, some machine of flight had soared away from the tower and disappeared into the sky. It did not come back during the night and there were no more lights, not even from the central room.

Only then had he dared enter, though at first he was merely a shadow seeking to discover the location of the item he sought and nothing more. But his search proved fruitless and he returned to his body before dawn broke lest he risk discovery. He waited again for nightfall and the flying machine did not come back, so he ventured once more into the tower as a shadow. He was able to search everywhere like this save for one room that had to belong to the sorceress. No matter what he did this shade could not penetrate its protection and he knew that to enter he would have to do so physically. How strange, though. She had not, at first, struck him as a particularly potent mage.

Not like the sorceress who had touched his pages.

He had not seen her face, had not heard her voice, but he had felt her in the brush of her fingertips and the dormant, controlled dance of lightening that hummed beneath youthfully soft skin. That strange sorcerer's power had been great – great enough for his release – but it had been the touch of that sorceress that had woken him and given him enough awareness to break free. Part of him quite wanted to seek out this sorceress, whoever she was. But he new better. His flesh might be attracted to power – it was only natural for him – but that did not mean it was either necessary or at all wise to listen to it. The body often wanted things that were detrimental to one's health, physical or otherwise.

This particular sorceress here was tagging along with a group of other odd youths. In his experience the most powerful sorceresses were cold, closed off, solitary, and aloof. They were the mages whose power had reached a point where they did not require any companions for protection and, indeed, would find such a hindrance for their own purposes. Perhaps she was simply in contact with powerful mages who enchanted her chambers for her.

Either way, he was facing a physical search. He did not like it; this was an intrusion on these empowered youths who were obviously using their odd strengths and abilities for the good of their community. But he had no alternative. He had to get that book – even if it meant doing things he did not like.

And so, when the flying metal bird did not return a third night, he crossed the waters himself and carefully bypassed certain dimensions so he might enter the curious structure without being detected by the machines. He couldn't find the door and was convinced that one did not exist on ground-level. Honestly, could _everyone_ fly in this strange world?

When he found her room he found he could not even side-step the dimensions. When he tried the first time he wound up on the other side of the 'T'. The second time he found himself in the enormous underground place where the youths apparently kept the items they did not wish to clutter their space but could not seem to throw away. He decided not to try this again in case the dimensions decided to deposit him outside. He could fly in his shadow form, but it was not so easy for his physical one. A fall might not kill him but he did not enjoy the idea of having to heal any broken bones.

It was no use; there was no way into the room magically. He had not intended to leave behind any sign of his presence but he was certain, now, that if the book was not in the safe vaults of this structure then it was most certainly in the possession of this sorceress. He raised a hand and carefully removed the door from its frame. It was not easy, and there would be signs that it had been removed, but this was necessary. Once that was done he entered the dark domain and began his search with new confidence.

The room was curiously big – bigger than most of the other personal rooms his shadow form had flitted through – and quite specious. A large bed stood in the far corner, there was a dresser, a desk, and walls lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of many, _many_ books sitting beside interesting items, some of which he vaguely recognized. That was promising, if a bit daunting. The room was also bereft of the central lighting objects that he'd seen in all the other chambers and instead the walls and ceiling were hung with glass lamps of various designs and makes. There were strange figurines, small statues, odd contours of the walls, tapestries, paintings, and intricately carven wooden furniture pieces. Black curtains covered the window entirely so that he had been forced to create his own light.

More and more did this feel like an invasion. In his shadow form he had not been capable of perceiving much detail in the things he saw and so anything of a personal nature was not wholly revealed to him. But here and now? He did his best not to look too closely at any of the interesting decoration, but it was difficult. When he came to the conclusion that all the paintings had been done by the same hand he realized he was looking too much and should focus on the task at hand.

That was strange. There was a single hand mirror laying on a vanity desk. The large mirror affixed to the desk itself was reflecting his light and, consequentially, his own image. But that mirror was oddly blank. Perhaps it was something in the angle?

Unthinkingly he walked over and picked it up. He nearly dropped it when he realized he was not seeing his own reflection at all but something else _entirely_. Fortunately he managed to keep hold and set it back down gently even as he felt a strong pull of strange forces. He fought them, managing to break free after a battle that seemed to last forever. When he successfully severed that pull he found himself panting and perspiring slightly.

Hmmm, perhaps underestimating this sorceress was a bad idea. Really, underestimating _any_ sorceress was a bad idea, regardless of their power. He really should know that by now.

He searched swiftly through the books; each and every one of them. He found nothing but he partially expected that. Still, having so obvious a place to hide a book like that would have seemed the perfect choice for a clever mind. He searched the drawers and dressers instead, feeling mildly ashamed of himself for looking at the even more personal items this mysterious woman did not wish to display even for herself. He was also quite wary of them and made sure not to touch anything else with his hands if at all possible. He looked for the book and did not allow his eyes to linger too long on anything else. He was invading this maiden's privacy enough as it was.

Nothing. There was nothing anywhere. The book was simply not here.

That left only one other option, and perhaps it was a rather obvious one:

These youths had taken the book _with_ them.

(8)

A/N: The dragon song is mine, by the way. And yes, the lyrics are suppose to be that awkward since it's supposedly being translated from Draconic. I listen to a lot of European metal and one thing I've noticed is that you never get lyrics that are quite as interesting as when they've been written by someone to whom English is a second language. If you wish to look up some artists with particularly interesting (and awesome) lyrics then refer yourself to the bands known as Lacuna Coil, Flowing Tears, Tristania, Edenbridge, and Charon. Other awesome bands include: Within Temptation, Nightwish (_duh_), Delain, Visions of Atlantis, Unsun, Xandria, Sirenia, and, more than likely, many others that I've yet to discover.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Why is the gloomy girl engaging in a fit of laughter? That's out of character!

Rorek will officially appear in the next chapter, I promise! I know you've all been waiting oh-so-patiently (cue loud roar) (O.O _blink-blink_) but it's happening! Now excuse me while I go fix my hair back…


	7. Forgiveness

A/N: Hmmm…didn't get too many readers for the last chapter. ;.; You've all abandoned me for Diablo III haven't you?-!

Kitty: Or Finals. Not everyone is out of school yet, you know.

Me: Oh, right, Real Life. Bleh. (Pulls out Diablo III box) For those of you who are still able to keep up with my updates: You're lucky I haven't slipped this into my computer yet or said updates would be slowing down to one a week.

(8)

_The creature's blood was hot and burned my skin – though perhaps this was simply a perception for when I later examined myself my body was not burned. I convulsed violently as I realized what I had done, for though the creature was foul and monstrous it was still a sentient being. It was an entity as aware of its own self as I. Perhaps it twas guilt which burnt me, not the blood. Yet this thing had possessed no such reservations about me and myself. I had been its pet too long, suffered its cruelties and learned the true nature of its kind. Yet the last words it uttered to me before it died chilled me through the fire. I remember them well._

"_Is that guilt I see in your eyes? Then truly I was wrong. You are not the monster I thought you to be. I am sorry."_

_I? She believed I was the monster? Was I the monster? Had her cruelty been born of fear? Had she feared me just as greatly as I feared her?_

_I could not bear these thoughts. I ran from the tower, from the murder I had done, and out into the cold rain where mud became my clothing and the only balm for my scars and fears was the harsh icy spray of the moorland storms._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 7 – Forgiveness**

_It hurts, doesn't it?_

_Shut up._

_Knowing that she was just using you._

_Shut up!_

_She didn't miss you at all. She just needed your knowledge._

_Enough…_

_It is no more than you deserve._

_Enough! I regret my actions! What more do want from me?-! Why must this go on and on?_

_Tis far easier to forgive another than one's own self._

It'd also be nice if his own thoughts would stop berating him like this.

He'd been a fool. He'd managed to delude himself into believing that she was returning to him out of a desire to learn his language. In fact the small hope that perhaps she missed him and was using these lessons as her own excuse for spending time with him had been incubating in his mind. But no. She had other reasons for learning his language. She must have been surprised when he offered to teach her just like that, so desperate he'd been to find some way of bringing her back. He had even gone into the first lesson without waiting for her to actually confirm her desire. All this time…

_You owe her. Do not dare to feel misled. This is all you deserve._ his own thoughts growled at him.

Yet still he wanted to rage; to pity himself; to call her a temptress and other such names; to claim that she had been stringing him along with false hopes and wishes. She was using him! She only wanted—

"_Oh dear, you're not going to cry now, are you? I know it hurts, but you'll just have to accept the truth. It's over. I got what I wanted; I don't need you anymore." Weren't those your **exact** words?_

_You are a real pain in the tail sometimes._

_You **owe** her._

(O)

The celebration technically lasted for three days but the Earth party were only asked to stay for the first few hours. Starfire got to stay for a bit longer since there were a few repairs that had to be made to the T-Ship – the existence of which were the reason Wheatley was having a time-out in the cargo hold.

Raven assisted Cyborg with the repairs since she now knew quite a bit about machines from her part in the new T-Ship's construction. She didn't even _want_ to know what Wheatley had managed to convince Beast Boy to do. Fortunately the damage wasn't quite as bad as Cyborg had at first thought.

They called Starfire on her communicator when everything was up and running to Cyborg's satisfaction and were on their way back home before noon. Or so they thought at first. Five minutes of space-travel later and they had to fly back or else risk being permanently deafened by Starfire's cries of, "WE FORGOT THE SPACE-LOVING SPHERE—GO BACK GO BACK!-!-!"

It took _all day_ to find it.

A few hours later and Raven was alone at the helm while the others got some sleep. It was peaceful and quiet. She found serenity in the way the stars moved around her, becoming huge suns reflecting planets that fled past as she watched. Sometimes the ship would pass a particularly enormous sphere at a great distance and she was able to watch it for more than a second before the hyper drive whipped it out of sight.

It seemed almost impossible that the Titans could take a trip like this and _not_ be attacked by some planet's threatening oppressors or something. This peaceful vacation was almost a letdown. Like the universe had simply decided to give up and go take a nap.

Someone entered the front deck and Raven turned to see it was Nightwing. "Hey." he said.

"Hey. Can't sleep?" she asked.

"Sort of…" He took one of the helm's passenger seats. "Actually…there's something I wanted to talk to you about." 'And I know you're not going to want to hear it but please don't kill me.' were the words she heard but were not actually said.

"Alright," she began in her best, 'here, I'm bracing myself so I don't kill you.' voice. She was pretty sure she knew what the meat of this talk was going to be about, though. What else could it be about?

"It's about Malchior."

_Yep, called it._ she thought. "Specifically?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm wondering if…maybe…we should give him a second chance."

If Raven had been driving a car they would have definitely crashed into something. Even so it was lucky the autopilot was flying and all she was really doing was keeping an eye on things. She stared at Nightwing who, after five minutes, started to sweat under the silent scrutiny.

Finally she managed, "You what?"

"I'm not saying let him out!" he told her earnestly. "And I'm not saying we should completely trust him but…maybe we should give him the chance to prove he really is sorry?" he suggested.

There was another long, nervous pause.

"What, exactly, did you have in mind?"

(O)

"You're—you're a talking book! A talking book! That's amazing! How are you doing that without a mouth or lungs or anything?"

"I…could ask you the same question."

"Speakers, mate. Gotta love 'em."

"I. Am. **Not**. Your. Mate."

Wheatley's glowing blue eye got very small. "Right, got it, not a mate…understood. Completely acceptable. Ah, will 'buddy' be okay? Mr. Book maybe? How about 'Sir'? I can do 'Sir'."

"That will suffice."

"Good! Good! So, ah, any idea why the gloomy girl is laughing so hard? Seems a bit out of character, that."

"No. Idea."

"Ah ha, so it's a mystery is it? Oh! You know what we should do? Solve this mystery! We could be mystery-solvers. You and me! Solving mysteries everywhere! Starting with why the gloomy girl has slipped out of character and is engaging in a fit of laughter that is considered atypical for characters of the general gloomy profile. You'll be the prime detective and I'll be the beloved side-kick. So, what's the plan, Boss?"

"I still prefer this to the beep."

"Oooo, a beep? What beep? Is that another mystery? Two mysteries in one day! I smell a two-parter."

"You will stop talking, now."

"Yes Sir."

A few minutes passed in silence. Cyborg materialized next to Wheatley and stared at him. Then he poked the sphere. No response. He glowered grumpily at the white book. "Dude, I've been trying to find the off button for three days straight! How'd you do that?-!" he demanded.

"It's a knack. Tell me something: Is this how you redeem all your former enemies? Place them next to annoying spheres?"

"I am sure that once you and the Wheatley get to know one another you shall become the best of friends!" Starfire declared.

Wheatley's pupil shrank again as he looked from her to the book and back.

"Ye gods, woman. I can't tell if you're serious or holding a grudge."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Starfire, honestly confused.

"…And there went one of the last few pieces of my sanity that I had managed to cling to. If I begin to babble incoherently about large green things with teeth and big dogs with orange eyebrows please pay me no heed. And I know that is you, Shifter. You are not funny."

Beast Boy, who had turned into a big green dog with big teeth and orange eyebrows, snickered and turned back.

"How did you change your eyebrow color?" Raven asked him.

"Uh…not sure." Beast Boy admitted sheepishly.

Malchior did not give any indication that Nightwing, Beast Boy, or Starfire had paid him a visit while Raven was asleep. He obviously hadn't mentioned it earlier either or Raven would have said something about it when she told them what he'd told her about the black book. That was probably one of the biggest reasons why Nightwing had decided to give him a second chance. When Raven carried him to the front deck there were a few moments of baited breath and thumping hearts. It would have been just like the Malchior they had previously thought he was to make some hinting remark about meeting three of the Titans for the second time. He hadn't.

Only Beast Boy and Starfire's complete lack of poker skills would have given them away. Fortunately Raven seemed to mistake their tense behavior for nervousness about having to _meet_ Malchior.

And then Raven had decided to set him on the same wall-table that currently held Wheatley and the Space Core (who was currently suffering from yet _another_ fry-out).

The book flopped open, which startled everyone but Raven, and the pages flipped over to the colorless image of white eyes and white hair. Automatically Cyborg leaned him up against the wall so they could all see those eyes. "Thank you. So…now what?" he asked.

"Now we ask you a bunch of personal questions that no one really wants to know the answers to." Cyborg answered.

"We do?" Raven asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"…Smashing…" Malchior sighed with resignation. "Proceed."

"What's your favorite food?" Beast Boy asked.

"Virgins chained to rocks." the book answered sarcastically. "Maartuz, I don't know. It's been over a thousand years since I've had a body. Do you really think even something as basic as the common potato would still taste the same in this time as it did in mine?" he asked.

"And if the potatoes taste different then the virgins are definitely going to have a off flavor." Raven mused.

"Not to mention the rocks and chains." Malchior added.

"Okay, um…favorite color?" Beast Boy asked.

"Is this really necessary?" Malchior questioned.

"We would like to get to know you as a potential friend." Starfire told him cheerfully.

"…"

"You guys never asked _me_ my favorite—"

"I thought I said you were not to speak."

"Yes Sir!" came a _very_ high-pitched response.

"Dude, you have _got_ to teach me how to do that." Cyborg said.

(O)

He stood there next to the silently terrified talking sphere and watched with interest as, after more pointless questions about his likes, dislikes, hobbies, and so on ("Violet.", "Dogs.", "Various arts.", and so on), the communal activity of these empowered youths broke apart into individual things that still seemed to require them to be in the same chamber. The green shifter was playing what was called a 'video game' – which Malchior only sort of knew about – and was complaining loudly that the screen was too small. He went ignored. Their leader, the newly-named Nightwing, was focused on a small strange object similar to the one that he'd seen Raven using when she had first opened his book again. The metal man was focused on the front of the ship where the fascinating sight of planets speeding past them held Malchior's attention for a very long time. Raven herself was sitting on the floor reading while the hyperactive one was cheerfully playing with her lusciously long violet hair. Malchior had to turn his attention away from that scene rather swiftly. There was no telling what might happen if he came out as a paper man again and tried to take over Starfire's activities. For all Raven yet knew, he'd lost that particular ability and he didn't want to reveal it's continued existence until he was sure she wouldn't decide to remove it.

So instead he turned his attention back to the stars. It was truly an amazing sight. If only that thing these humanoids called 'music' wasn't playing in the background. During some of these individual songs he really wished he had ears so he could cut them off and toss them out into space. This wasn't the case with all the songs, but they were for quite a few. Honestly, how could Raven stand it? Surely this wasn't _her_ type of music. She'd probably had practice.

"Hey, hey Malchior." the shifter, obviously thinking he was being stealthy, decided to slip up next to the book. He had previously been groaning about something in his game and was now whispering to the dragon out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, what?"

"Look, Raven's totally cheating on you with another book. Jealous?" he asked.

Malchior flipped a page to an altered image of his eyes. This one possessing the picture of one eye opened a bit wider than the other in the definite expression of one questioning another one's sanity. Then he flipped a page to another expression, this one something of a resigned sort of leer. "Yes, I am so jealous…of an inert bundle of paper. Indeed." he said in a dead voice. "Go make your video game-thing move again. I was watching that." he lied.

"You wanna play?" The shifter proffered the controlling object he'd been using to manipulate the moving pictures.

"Oh yes, absolutely. Just cut off your wrists and attach your hands to my pages so I can use it." Malchior said brightly.

"Can't you do that paper person thing?" he asked.

"I don't know…I could try." He flipped a page to eyes that were pointed at Raven.

"Hey Raven! Can Malchior do the paper person thing so I can teach him how to play Mega Monkeys Ultima?" the shifter asked.

"I don't know, can he?" Raven asked, not even looking up from her book. The hyperactive one had pulled her hair up into a ponytail and was now braiding individual locks with every sign of enjoyment despite Raven's apathy.

Deciding to take this as permission, Malchior let his pages rustle in a chaotic deluge of flying paper. After a few moments of disconcerting blackness he opened a pair of ink-made eyes and looked out through them. He looked down at his hands. "Mmm, seems I can."

"Awesome! Here," the shifter shoved the controller contraption into his paper hands and pushed him over to the screen. "We'll start you off on a new game!"

20 minutes later and Malchior was so engrossed in the novelty of having such control over a moving image that he completely failed to notice what the shifter was doing until he heard the energetic one giggle and Raven's own light chuckle. Then he realized he'd been feeling something running across his substitute skin and looked over to see the shifter wearing a big all-too-innocent smile. The green youth was also hiding something behind his back in a less-than-subtle manner.

Malchior pressed the button that froze the pictures and gave the shifter his full attention. Then he noticed the black scrawls all down the left side of his makeshift body. He leered at the shifter. Suddenly it felt like the entire chamber was waiting to see what he would do. Was this a test? No, this was just the shifter's own childish behavior.

But, suddenly, it _was_ a test. His reaction was going to be carefully judged for both the act itself and its honesty. It may determine just how much freedom he'd be allowed in future.

He had three options: One, get mad; two, ignore it; or three, get even – but in a humorous way. One thing he had learned about present day humanity was that they'll forgive almost anything if you make them laugh.

"Your artwork leaves much to be desired. Here, let me show you a few things." he held his hand out for the marking tool and, like the unsuspecting fool that he was, the shifter handed it over. Malchior then grabbed the green youth by his hair and began industriously inking his face. "What you must always be conscious of is perspective. Not simply what you are looking at, but the angle at which you view it. You must also know about shadows. Shading is what creates the illusion of shape upon a flat surface and is vital for accurate portrayal – particularly when all one has to work with is black ink. You can take an inaccurate sketch and still at least give it an attractive look if you have good shading skills." he chatted amicably. "Also be aware of your lines. More often than not using just a few lines to hint at a texture will do you more favors than drawing out the entire texture. It is also not always necessary for everything to be outlined, especially if you are limited on just how much you can shade. There." He finished his work and returned the marker to the shifter. Then he calmly went back to figuring out the fascinating world of video games.

"Alright, Beast Man, turn around." the Nightwing lad commanded, sounding amused.

Upon the shifter's forehead he had drawn a distant scope of mountains while either cheek indicated the trees and foliage of a forest. The middle of his face had been employed for a river that made use of his nose and mouth to indicate a rock and a short water fall.

There was some snickering and a giggle. "I like where he put the river." he heard Raven say.

"Alright, someone get me a mirror! What did he do!"

"He showed you up Beast B-Man, big time." Nightwing answered.

"Alright, y'all, let me see." said the metal man, coming away from his chair.

_What is going on here?_ he wondered as the metal man guffawed. This was the last thing he had expected. Were these youths honestly intending to befriend him? Where was the obligatory hostility? Where was the awkwardness? Where were the uncomfortable silences? What about the shaded and uncertain glances in his direction?

_They are willing to forgive you and are offering you a second chance. It is more than you deserve, but so often does life give us what we do not deserve._

_Indeed…but if they are willing to forgive me then perhaps that means she is as well._

Malchior turned his attention back to the game. Thus far he had been so fascinated by simply moving the little monkey about he had not actually done anything yet. From what he could tell, the little monkey was in a town of other monkeys that were all walking upright and wearing clothes. It was amazing. He was exploring a town with this little monkey in which no one seemed to be doing anything much but standing around or walking aimlessly. This was not normal town behavior as far as he knew it. Even in modern times people did not simply stand around and do _nothing_. There was always some work to be going on with or, in the present day, some entertainment to be had. It was very strange. Were they all waiting for something then? He directed his monkey towards another.

"Sweet, merciful Pahmonah, is that female intended to look alluring?-!" he exclaimed, startled and slightly sick.

"Well, to monkeys I guess." the shifter answered.

"She seems to be having some difficulty with her clothes." the hyperactive one observed. And if _she_ agreed with that sentiment then obviously it wasn't just him.

"In my experience monkeys do not wear clothing. Neither is it the females that do the luring. The male lures, the female chooses. Why does this moving picture game thing seem to think any female primate would deem it necessary to attempt to appear attractive?"

"It's just a video game, dude. You know, it's like fiction." the shifter explained.

"Ah, lying for entertainment. I see." Malchior looked at the female…thing and then back at the shifter. "The story-tellers and artists of your time are touched in the head. How do I instigate conversation with this…female?"

"Just press the 'A' button. That's the blue one there."

"Very well," he did so. "Pardon me…Madam, but I would like to ask—"

"Oh Optimi! Thank the moons you are here! My basement has been overrun by giant space rats! Please, you must do something!" the female cried out desperately.

"She just interrupted me in mid-sentence!" Malchior cried in outrage. "Is this typical?-! And who is this 'Optimi' she believes she is speaking to? What is so funny?"

"It is not funny." Starfire said primly. "I too believed the images of people could hear me when I first witnessed these fictions."

"At least Malchior didn't try to kill any monsters by destroying the TV screen." Raven mused.

Malchior put the game in its frozen state. "Alright, before I proceed further I would like a more detailed explanation." he stated.

"Hey, can we play some of my music now?" Raven asked. "Everyone else has had their turn." she added when the other Titans seemed to become awkward.

"Yeah, sure, Rae! Just let me, um, go see if I can find your mp3s..." the metal man said.

Malchior was curious. Raven's music? He guessed it wasn't so much music that she had written as that she simply liked and listened to. Undoubtedly it would be music that the others might find gloomy or depressing or slow or...

Or roaring?

_And it doesn't matter how you feel now  
Anything at all  
Seems to be your only way  
So vicious  
Heavenly apart_

It wasn't like the previous bits of rather rough music with their enthusiastic drums and guitars. Oh it had those things, but it was a bit different. It was harder, more vicious, while at the same time the female voice that sang was haunting and unusual.

_When your envy is on a piece of paper  
Let me sweetly smile  
You're devouring all the crumbs I'm leaving  
Caught up in your lies_

In fact, it felt like humans were attempting to make their instruments sound like a dragon choir.

_You're on any other side/Clawing up my eyes  
I'm feeling your arms around me  
On the other side  
It's time to go  
I'm hearing your voice without words  
On the other side_

"What sort of music is this?" Malchior asked.

"Something Argent got Raven hooked on a while back. I think it's called goth metal or darkwave or something. Use to she listened to classical music. Now her music has more metal in it than Nightwing's." the shifter explained.

_But it doesn't matter how I feel now  
Anything at all  
Since I've left you with the wrong impression  
While I'm still the same_

_("Unspoken" by Lacuna Coil)_

"I like it." he decided after listening to it for a few more seconds.

"Yeah that figures. Here, let me show you how this works." the shifter said, taking the controller from Malchior. He then tumbled down into a long-winded explanation involving moving blocks of color, large rats, something called Dungeons & Dragons, and the mind-numbing fact that, now that humanity had pulled itself up out of the dark ages, they were constantly returning to it in their heads as a means of escaping their disappointment in the advanced world. And perhaps he could see the point. Perhaps once one took one's real self out of the environment and placed an imaginary self there instead then there could be some enjoyment in the act.

It was actually quite fascinating.

(O)

_Burning here  
In the room  
Feeling that  
The walls are moving closer_

_Silent scene  
The dark takes me  
Leads me to  
The ending of another day  
_

_I'm haunted_

Raven was at the helm again. Once more the others were all asleep but this time around she wasn't exactly alone. Malchior was glued to Beast Boy's video game – though he was currently having some issues now that Beast Boy had decided to retire. Every now and then he would grumble something under his breath in Draconic. Other than that it was quiet. Malchior's mere presence was enough to keep the personality spheres completely silent. Even the Space Core – whom Raven had thought lacked the necessary amount of intelligence (artificial or otherwise) to be frightened – didn't talk. It was just her, an occupied paper dragon-man, and her music. She was also reading, but made sure to glance up every now and then to make sure everything was okay. Still no sign of some needed epic rescue or anything. Things were pretty quiet.

_Tell me who you are  
I am spellbound  
You cannot have this control on me  
Everywhere I go  
I am spellbound  
I will break the spell you put on me_

_("Spellbound" by Lacuna Coil)_

She noticed when the game's sounds and Malchior's grumbling stopped but she didn't pay much attention until the paper man appeared next to her.

"May I sit down?" he asked. She nodded and he took the same seat that Nightwing had the night before (though, of course, out here day and night were simply a matter of preference).

They sat in silence for a long time. Her reading, him staring in fascination at the view of the planets speeding past. She noticed when his gaze turned to her. She could feel it. But she refused to acknowledge it.

She wasn't sure what to think anymore. She wasn't sure how she felt. Part of her felt dead, or perhaps just dormant and too lazy or simply too tired to raise its head again. She didn't really want to feel anything. Not like that. She'd learned her lesson the first time, and she was still too new to the freedom of emotions. She was dealing with it by doing what she always did and simply dipping in one toe at a time. Slow and steady.

Did she still have feelings for him? No. Not those kinds of feelings anyway. She'd been over him for a long time now. She'd accepted what had happened and while she wasn't going to tell anyone it was _alright_ she also wasn't going to let it rule her life.

And now?

"I'm jealous, Raven." Malchior said, suddenly breaking the silence.

"Of my book?" she asked.

He coughed and chuckled. "Yes, you are cheating on me with another book. How could you, Raven?" he asked in a mock hurt voice. Then his eyes became serious. "No, I'm jealous of you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Of me?"

"If I had had such friends in my early days…many things would be different." He turned his attention back to the stars but, for a brief moment, Raven was sure she'd seen real honest longing in his eyes. "Truly, it is not what I am which they despise but what I have done. Such individuals are rare indeed. Sheer experience so often burns away these trusting philosophies, and, unfortunately, not without cause." he mused.

She wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. She shrugged. "There are always going to be prejudices. It's one of the ways people deal with their fears and insecurities. This doesn't make them right, but there's so much about life that isn't right." she mused. "I'm sure people were prejudice against dragons long before that High Priest you mentioned disappeared."

"Certainly, but the High Priest was at least able to keep humans and dragons on marginally good terms. At least, that's how it was in the land of Nahl. He kept the dragons in line and earned the trust of many powerful kings and princes so that there would be a sort of surface communion between the two races. At the same time, however, they carefully stayed out of one another's affairs." he explained.

"Wait, this High Priest was a dragon? I thought dragons didn't worship gods. Why would there be a High Priest?" Raven asked.

"What dragons worshiped was not a god, as such…" he told her awkwardly. "It's a bit complicated."

"What about this 'Maartuz' you mentioned? I notice that's the last word in your Draconic power chant. Is it a god as well?"

"In a way, yes. But he wasn't _worshiped_ any more than Pahmonah. According to the old legends, Maartuz was the first dragon and it is from him that the power of the Thu'um comes. But these are largely the same sort of legends that think you can gain the power of transformation by making a new shape out of clay and bypass the whole business of skin, bones, organs, blood, and so on. It's hard to know what is true and what isn't. It could be that Maartuz began as a human and became a dragon and _that_ is why the Dov, I mean the dragons, have human shapes. I'm sure that was one of the stories. Obviously since the first dragon was male in these legends then he had to have some way of propagating with females of other races otherwise there would be no dragons at all. Perhaps it is not that the Dov are dragons with human shapes but humans with dragon shapes. There's no real way to know. But perhaps the details aren't that important."

"Perhaps." she agreed. "And the being that dragons _do_ worship?" she asked.

"That's a bit deep, Raven. I'd rather not talk about it. _I'm_ no priest." he told her solemnly.

She decided not to ask any more. He seemed uncomfortable with the subject. They sat in silence for a while longer, both staring at the stars. Raven's book was closed on her lap.

"Raven,"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

She didn't look at him. "You've said."

"Then perhaps there is some way I can prove it."

"You're being given the chance." she pointed out, now peering at him out of the corner of her eye.

He nodded. "Tis more than I deserve." he murmured quietly, not looking at her.

Another silence stretched out between them.

"Raven…"

She jumped slightly when she felt his hand take one of hers. He moved so silently! He was kneeling at her knee and his white sepia eyes were staring earnestly up at her.

"I am sorry." he said softly. "Perhaps one day I can tell you…why…but it won't matter. I would like to say that I am different now, that I have changed, but I do not know if this is true or if I am simply looking at things differently because I have come to accept my paper prison for the eternity it is. But I regret this, Raven. For whatever reason I regret my actions. I regret how I used you, I regret how focused I was on nothing but my freedom, I regret the foul creature that I was and probably still am. I regret…and I will continue to ask for the forgiveness I know I do not deserve. I am sorry, Raven. Please forgive me."

She pulled her hand away and he let it go, looking crestfallen. "Malchior…" she sighed. "I forgave you a long time ago." she told him simply.

His eyes went wide with shock and surprise. "What? Why? How?" he asked.

"Just…listen. I forgave you but not for your sake, alright? I forgave you for myself, because I didn't want to carry around all that hurt and anger for the rest of my life. So I let it go, I got over it." Well, it was mostly true. Perhaps she hadn't forgiven him _completely_…until now. Amazing how much easier it was to do that when the person in question actually _asked_ for forgiveness. "You were a mistake that I learned from. My first love, and it ended badly. Now, that doesn't mean I was going to completely forget what you did and that doesn't mean the pain just _left_ and never came back. But I put it behind me. Despite what many of those fluffy romance novels that Starfire reads would have you believe, one _does_ get over these things. Life moves on and you have to move with it or die. That's how things work. So I did.

"What I'm trying to say," she went on, "is that I'm willing to give you another chance. I'm willing to think of you as a possible friend, and so are the others. But those feelings I had for you back then are gone. And in a way I think that's a good thing. It means that I _can_ forgive you. So I forgive you. That doesn't necessarily mean I trust you enough to free you again, but…maybe we can start being…friends."

"Friends…" he mused. "Just…friends…"

"Yes."

He nodded, "Yes. I…think I would like that." he said, though his eyes were telling her something else. Something she very carefully did not read. He then returned to his own chair. "Would you…like another lesson in Draconic?" he asked her.

She considered this a moment. "Why not?" She put her book away and turned the music off so it wouldn't be distracting. "Should I fetch the book?"

"Your reading doesn't need any more work. Only your comprehension. I was thinking of doing something different. I'm going to tell you a few stories, familiar stories, and you just do your best to follow along."

That sounded kinda fun. She nodded, "Alright."

"Ont au fin tiid…"

(O)

Malchior was back in the green book bag and zipped up. This time, though, it had been at his request. He didn't exactly sleep; not _sleep_ as they knew it. But when all sounds and sights were blocked from him then he could dream. These dreams had been quite restful as of late and he looked forward to them – provided he knew that he could also look forward to having something other than endless dreaming in his future.

She'd decided to leave him in there for the sake of convenience when the ship docked in the tower. Out of habit she carried him to her room, leaving the others to unload all their luggage (Starfire, naturally, coming home with more than she went). At first she didn't notice the odd look of her door. It opened and shut as it was meant to, and she walked into her room with the book bag slung over her shoulder and hidden by her cape. Then she froze and looked at her hand mirror. She turned and looked at her door. To the naked eye nothing was amiss but she was sure that if Cyborg ran any detailed scans over it he'd be able to detect that it had been broken and reattached. It didn't matter how good you were, you could never break something and then put it back together in exactly the same condition. There would always be a mark, even if plain eyes couldn't see it.

Someone had been in her room. Someone who had been careful and had not wanted to leave behind any trace of their presence, trying to disturb as little as possible. Swiftly she examined all the hidden passages to her various closets. She was relieved to find that none of them had been found. This mysterious intruder would have had to break them open and fuse them back like he or she had done with the door but there was no sign of that. For reasons she couldn't quite identify she decided to employ one of them – the one with the most seemingly useless yet sentimental junk in it – and she hid Malchior's bag in a large chest full of small rag dolls (one she typically kept very tightly shut). He'd be safe in there, though his dreams might not be quite so restful if she had to keep him there for a great length of time.

First thing was first: Warn the team. She could scan the tower in what had come to be her normal method, but if she did so then the magic-user in question would undoubtedly sense her. And then what? Would he or she run? Would they seek her out for a fight? Regardless she needed to tell the others. Now. She had no idea if the magic-user was still there, and she had no idea if he, she, or it had left.

The other Titans were consolidating their luggage in the living room. Apparently some souvenirs had gotten mixed up and they had to sort through everything. Currently Starfire and Beast Boy were fighting over some strange object that looked like a big claw with a smiley face.

"The Nufgor is mine! I am the one who caught it in the celebration of throwing things!"

"But you totally gave it to me, Star! Don't you remember?-!"

"You know what we need in a situation like this? A stalemate resolution button! And, preferably, a qualified stalemate resolution associate to press it. Has anyone in here had the necessary training?" Wheatley asked.

"Guys, trouble!" Raven exclaimed, stopping the argument.

"What is it, Raven?" Nightwing asked.

"Trouble? Um, er, what kind of trouble?" Wheatley asked, his little glowing pupil going small.

"Someone's been in the tower." she told them. "A magic-user, and not one we know." she stated.

"Yeah, 'cause all the ones we know would have definitely trashed the place. How did they get past my security?" Cyborg demanded. "I thought my sensors could pick up someone else's magic."

"They're not completely fool-proof. There are magics out there that I don't know about." Raven said.

"Well that ain't good."

"Someone looking for Malchior's book?" Nightwing asked.

"Could be." she answered.

"Um, uh, what's going on again?" Wheatley asked nervously.

"Are they still here?" Nightwing asked.

"I don't know. But if I scan the tower they will definitely detect it." she told them.

"Yeah, hard to simply _not notice_ when everything goes black and white and the shadows look like they're going to jump out and shout 'boo'." Beast Boy muttered.

"Where's Malchior now?"

"I hid him."

"Good. Alright, do your scan." Nightwing said.

"You guys do know that magic isn't real ri—AUGH!-!-! WHAT IS THAT?-! I CAN'T SEE IN COLOR ANYMORE!-!-! WHAT'S GOING ON?-! THIS IS CREEPY MAKE IT STOP! Oh, thank you…"

"The roof!" Raven exclaimed with a gasp. "He's on the roof!"

"Titans, go!"

(O)

The door was practically blasted open as the Titans all rushed out as swiftly as possible to confront their intruder. He appeared to have been waiting for them over by Starfire's rooftop garden. He certainly didn't seem at all surprised to see them there, but they – Raven in particular – were surprised to see _him_.

She had to stifle a gasp when she saw him. He was tall and lean with long thick white hair and crystal blue eyes. He wore a black bodysuit overlaid by silver armor that glinted in the sun. There was a decorative 'R' on the chest plate, and obscuring all but his eyes was a black cowl.

So this was Rorek. She knew it was him. How often had she stared at his picture in the book; flipping back to it as she read through the story so that she might cement that image in her mind? But how could he be here? And why? Well, the latter question was easy enough to guess.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Nightwing demanded.

Rorek bowed to them. "I apologize for the intrusion," he began. His voice was different from Malchior's. It still maintained a similar accent and tone, but it was just slightly deeper and the harmonics of it seemed to reverberate in the air. "I had hoped to cause as little strife as possible, but fate so often conspires against us all. I am Rorel of Nahl, though if you knew me at all you would know me as Rorek of Nol. And I believe you have something that belongs to me."

(8)

A/N: Finally a truly evil cliffhanger! MUAHAHAHA!-!-! I know you've all been SO disappointed in me for the lack but now the story's getting good and it's time for evilness. 8D

In my mind Rorek has the same voice as Raziel from the awesome game series: Legacy of Kain. Who, as it so happens, also wears a cowl over his face! Connection? Eh, most definitely not…yum anyway, though.

What do _you_ think is gonna happen in the next chapter?:  
A. Rorek falls madly in love with Raven on sight and begs to join the Titans.  
B. Rorek falls madly in love with Wheatley and begs to join the Titans.  
C. Some villain or other shows up suddenly, gets his, her, or its butt handed to him, her, or it by Rorek, and Rorek joins the Titans.  
D. Rorek/Raven tongue-wrestling match.  
E. Rorek/Malchior tong—Pfffftahahaha!  
F. The Church of Blood (see original DC comics) didn't get the memo about Trigon's death and show up to collect Raven only to face a freed Malchior in all his dragon glory, decide 'F(hurk!) this, I'm out!' and convert to Christianity. (Now _that's_ what I call a 180 XD)  
G. Slade shows up and gets eaten by Malchior. ("Mmm, tastes like chicken. EVIL CHICKEN! Er…sorry, I'm not sure where that came from. Do excuse me…")  
H. GLaDOS (From Portal 1 & 2) finds a way to this dimension, takes over the T-Tower, and uses waffles as test subjects.  
I. The kitchen appliances organize a revolution and set out to conquer the bathrooms.  
J. All of the above, even the one you couldn't write out.  
K. None of the above save for the ones that _wouldn't_ get you flamed for sheer stupidity.  
L. You're weird.

Your – haha – 'vote' may very well have an indirect effect on the author's notes at the beginning of the next chapter. (Troll Face)

Don't worry, don't worry. I have every intention of updating Tuesday(5/22/12) evening (Central Time). I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that I do appreciate reviews even though I neglect to ask for them. I assume that it is assumed that I want them as any author would. They make me happy and encourage me to keep on writing. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE, **PLEASE** let me know when I've made any booboos like spelling errors or plot holes and such-like. I do go back and correct them. Thank you!


	8. Frozen

A/N: 0.o Wow…that last chapter got a LOT of reviews. Maybe I should ask for them more often…:D

So the winners are A, B, G, and I. Each of these got the most votes (alright, so some people voted for more than just one, it's not like I said there was a rule or anything :P). I'm not sure what to do about that…especially option B…I suppose I could do the same thing for this fic that I did for Dark Dreams. IE: Create a fic solely for crack drabbles based on Circles! It shall be called…Triangles! Or Squares! XD. Maybe…the idea is still percolating in my brain.

Just so everyone knows: The correct answer was 'L'. 8D Congrats to FelynxTiger and The Amethyst Eyes for getting it right. Your reward is virtual cookies that do not actually exist!

(8)

_The kindness of the villagers I encountered was an anomaly to me. Thus far I had known only pain and cruelty from this damp world of mud. I did not trust these smiling faces and gentle eyes. Yet they gave me food, clothing, treated my many wounds, and were gentle with me in manor and words. Later I wondered if I had seemed to them like a scared animal, so obviously wounded and abused – a creature to be handled with the utmost care. They brought me into their houses, respected my need for distance, and slowly, gradually, I began to speak. The language felt strange upon my tongue at first, but I must have known it before for soon the words simply cascaded from me as though I had been born in this place. And perhaps I had. One day I requested knowledge of my dwelling's name and was told, "This is the land of Nahl."_

_And thus I decided that this would be the realm I claimed as home._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 8 – Frozen**

"Sure you are, and I'm the Queen of England. Seriously, dude. Rorek lived, like, a _thousand years ago_? Do you really expect us to believe you're him?" Beast Boy demanded.

"Yes, I understand that my being here is quite a difficult notion to accept," though, Raven had to admit, no more difficult than some of the other logic leaps they'd faced in the course of their lives as superheroes. "Yet I am who I say I am, although I fear there is little I can do to prove to you my identity. Still I must ask that you return to me the white book you have in your possession." he told them.

"Why did you break into our tower while we were gone?" Raven demanded.

"As I indicated before, I had not wished for a confrontation. But I must ask again for the return of my book." he told them.

"Why do you want it?" Nightwing asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I would think the answer is obvious; the dragon you know as Malchior resides within. The tomb would be quite dangerous in the wrong hands. If he were to break free the result would be catastrophic – particularly for a land with so many innocents that might suffer from it." he explained.

"We can deal with Malchior. How do we know we can trust _you_, though?" Nightwing questioned. "We don't even know for sure that you are who you say you are. You could be some other sorcerer that's just pretending to be Rorek so we'll give you the book. In fact you might very well be the one who stole the black book from the museum and you're only here to collect the pair."

"I did not steal the black book," Rorek told them. Then he produced irrefutable evidence to the contrary and waving it at them slightly. "This book is rightfully mine, as is the white book. Allow me to explain: Some weeks ago I was trapped within this book in a similar fashion as Mahkrii—pardon me, as Malchior is trapped in the white book. Yet suddenly an enormous quantity of raw magical power flooded into the tomb, giving me strength to fight the enchantment. I do not quite understand where that power came from or why I obtained it, but I broke free after a fashion.

"The binding upon me was not exactly the same as the spell that I used on Malchior," he continued, "but it was similar enough that I fear he might find the means of release just as I did. And that is why I must obtain the white book: To ensure this does not happen." he explained.

"Very well, let's say we believe you." Raven said. "Why were _you_ trapped in a book? And by whom?" she asked.

"I am afraid there was a…misunderstanding. An unintentional enemy, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, some residual grudge, and the power of a very, very old sorceress. There is a great deal that happened in my life which was never recorded in history, you see. And I imagine there is only so much that has managed to survive in the thousand years I have been sealed away. Yet I am here and this is now. May I have the book?" he asked.

Nightwing and Raven exchanged a look. "No." Nightwing said finally. "We have no reason to trust you, and Raven is perfectly capable of keeping Malchior sealed away." he said.

"I see. I had hoped to avoid this but if you will not return the book to me willingly then I must obtain it by force." he told them. He put the book away and white spellfire enveloped his hands in the shape of electric orbs. He brought the orbs together and the light took on the form of a claymore. He grasped the sword in both hands and crouched into a battle stance.

"That figures." Beast Boy said as the Titans took up their own stances. Nightwing pulled out his titanium bow staff.

"I guess we don't have a choice." Nightwing said. He and Rorek both charged forward at the same time, meeting in the middle with a clash of white sparks as solid spellfire hit the titanium pole.

Their weapons hit two times before Rorek blasted Nightwing away with a bolt. He then leapt aside, dodging a plasma beam from Cyborg's cannon only to be faced with Beast Boy's bear form. Beast Boy took a swat at him but another white bolt from Rorek sent him over the edge of the tower. A stream of Starfire's star bolts caused him to roll but he was back on his feet in time to catch one of Starfire's punches in a fist of white spellfire. He sent a shot of power through her that caused her to cry out and drop to the ground. Swiftly after his claymore was back out and deflecting numerous missiles shot from Cyborg. Then he enveloped himself in a white barrier that blocked the daggers of black, white-lined spellfire Raven shot at him.

Beast Boy came back as a pterodactyl and managed to knock Rorek off the tower. The sorcerer fell a long ways but managed to slow his fall by enveloping himself in a bubble of white spellfire.

Starfire pulled herself back onto her feet so she grabbed Nightwing. Beast Boy picked up Cyborg and the Titans flew down to the bear earth surface of the island.

"It appears that having no natural ability to fly is a bit of a drawback." Rorek mused almost conversationally.

"Preach'n to the choir, dude." Cyborg said, aiming his plasma cannon at Rorek. "So are you gonna leave or—"

Rorek powered up a blast of spellfire and threw it at them in the form of wide-spread lightening that Raven only just managed to block with a wide shield.

"Guess that answers my question." Cyborg said.

"I believe the expression is: I am just getting warmed up." Rorek told them. He took a deep breath and shouted out, "**FO**!"

Raven's eyes went wide as she _felt_ the word twist in the air and become something far, far more. A cone of ice erupted just in front of Rorek's cowl and blasted them all with frost before she was able to pull up another barrier. Cyborg, who got the brunt of it, turned into a temporary statue while Nightwing – the only full human of their group – collapsed, shivering violently. Raven, Starfire, and Beast Boy recovered first and all three rushed him at once. Beast Boy tried to stomp on him as a T-Rex but was flung almost effortlessly into the river with Rorek's power. A sword-and-shield combo appeared in Rorek's hands as Starfire attempted once more to punch him. Her fist collided with the shield and she was struck by his sword, which turned into a bolt of lightening that sent her flying. Then suddenly Rorek was in the air, grabbed by his shoulders in the enormous black talons of Raven's signature bird form. She managed to get him higher than the tower before he sent a blast of white up at her. She turned into a flock of many smaller ravens in order to dodge it. Then she came back together into one large form that struck him as he fell, piercing through the white bubble he surrounded himself with. When she came 'round to do it again he somehow managed some small form of telekinetic levitation so that he was on her back and gripping her around the neck.

"Shape-change is not an easy magic to master, My Lady. You are obviously a capable sorceress. Tis a pity our circumstances are thus." he said, preparing a spell of some sort in one hand as she soared up higher and higher over the river.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to flirt with the enemy?" she returned before turning into the flock again and letting him drop.

She drew back together as her human self and flew after him. She created six swords of her black spellfire and sent them flying forward. He surrounded himself in a white bubble but the swords broke it and Raven used the opening to get in a kick. He caught her leg, however, and used it to spin her around so that once more he had her from behind. One arm was around her shoulders while the other around her waist. Her natural levitation slowed their fall.

"Tell me: How is it that the mages of this time fly so easily?" he asked, that spell still preparing itself in one hand. Raven was starting to worry about it. It seemed to loom in her mind and she had no idea what it would do.

"I'm special." she said, once again turning into the flock and flying a distance before becoming whole again. Unfortunately the slight second of disorientation that always followed this was all Rorek needed to throw his spell at her. It hit her squarely in the chest and suddenly her mind went very, very dark.

Raven plummeted to the water, limp and unconscious. But before she actually hit the river Beast Boy swooped down and caught her up in the talons of his pterodactyl form. Rorek wasn't getting any such help – not that he needed it. He hit the water protected by his spellfire bubble, which sank down for a moment before bobbing right back up to the surface. Then with a sweeping, turning motion of his arms and torso the water around him rose up, part of it freezing into a solid surface for him to stand on. Then, using his telekinetic powers on the ice itself, he rose into the air to meet an enraged Starfire while Beast Boy carried Raven back to the island.

"Dude! We're getting our butts kicked!" Beast Boy exclaimed.

"What did he do to Raven!" Nightwing exclaimed, scrambling over to her limp form and ignoring the biting icy pain that was still in his muscles. He was better off than Cyborg. At least he could move. All Cyborg could do at this point was shout about his frozen circuits and what all he was going to do to 'Frosty' when he got his hands on him.

"He hit her with some kind of spell." Beast Boy answered worriedly. He tried to shake the unconscious sorceress awake. "Raven! Raven!-!-! Beast Man to Raven! We sort of need your help here!-!-!" he shouted.

Starfire slammed down onto the island at an angle that sent her sprawling several feet before a rock stopped her progress. She collapsed into a heap and was sparking with white energy. She wasn't moving.

"Starfire!" Nightwing exclaimed. Rorek landed on the island, allowing the ice he was using to fly with to melt. Nightwing went after him with his titanium staff but his body was slow and sluggish from the clinging cold and Rorek dodged his attempts easily before blasting him back with his white spellfire.

"I believe this has gone on long enough." the wizard stated. "Give me the book and I will release your friends."

Nightwing forced his body to stand back up and he glared at Rorek. "We don't have it." he ground out between his teeth.

"I do not believe you." Rorek stated.

"Too bad!" Beast Boy turned into a T-Rex again and let out a huge roar.

"**Iiss**!"

This time the cold did not come out as a cone of frost but simply struck the intended target and wrapped around Beast Boy's enormous shape in a shell of ice, freezing him solid. The ice broke apart when he turned back into his regular shape but he curled up, shivering violently. "Du-u-u-u-ude…" he chattered out.

Rorek's fist glowed with white spellfire and he turned to Nightwing. "The book, please." he repeated.

(O)

"**Become like me.", "The Putrid One.", "Hear me…", "Child of the child of Pahmonah…", "Time ate his children.", "It's a warning."**

"**Stop…" Raven groaned.**

"**Can you hear me?", "It's a warning.", "Become like me.", "Hide your teeth.", "Hear me.", "Frozen by the fire of Time; a protection.", "The first escaped.", "Can you hear me?"**

"**Why won't you leave me alone?-!" she demanded.**

"**The last ate him back.", "Time lost wisdom.", "Hear me.", "It's a warning.", "Child of Time.", "Can you hear me?"**

"**YES!-!-!" she shouted. "I CAN HEAR YOU!-!-! WHAT DO YOU WANT?-!"**

"**The power of two together.", "A place of cadence for pride.", "The father of dragons."**

"**I don't understand!" she exclaimed.**

"**The Putrid One.", "It's a warning.", "Become me.", "Time eats his children.", "Find…", "It's a warning.", "Hear me."**

"STOOOOOP!-!-!"

Raven sat bolt upright and stared, gasping for breath as she gazed around the darkened twilight sky. All the shades of the world had become twisted and strange. The twilight sky was full of psychedelic colors that twisted and shimmered as though the colors were physical parts of the air itself. Most things had taken on a dark blue hue with just enough strange color for the contrasts to be clear.

She was back on the island. Cyborg had not moved from his position after Rorek's blast of cold, Starfire was spread-eagled on the ground, Beast Boy was curled up in the fetal position, and Nightwing looked like he was only just barely able to stand as he faced down Rorek's spellfire – which looked _really_ weird like this. In fact it looked like his hand was encased in layers upon layers of white scrawls that might be words or runes or just random designs trying to trick the eye.

"I have _got_ to stop doing this." she groaned, clutching her head. Oh well, she might as well take advantage of this while she could. She took several deep breaths and cleared her mind of all thought and emotion. Then she gathered up her focus to cleansed herself of Rorek's spell – whatever it was. It wasn't easy, but it helped that she literally had all the time in the world for it. When you took the pressure out of a situation like this, magic was so much easier it was almost ridiculous. Once that was finished she walked over and stood in front of Rorek's time-frozen form. She glared at him, drew her fist back, allowed time to move again, and punched him as hard as she could in the face. She even put some of her power behind it while she was at it.

Rorek stumbled back and actually lost his footing from the shock of the blow. Raven loomed over him and cracked her knuckles.

"Keep. Your. Hands. Off. My. Friends." she snarled. "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!" She allowed the rage to build up and she focused it within her, opening herself up to the deep power that she kept locked within. Her eyes glowed red and her hands were surrounded by orbs of spellfire. Wind and water began to rage, the earth shook, her cloak whipped up, and the world that consisted of the tower and about a mile of the surrounding river lost all of its color. "Time to stop playing fair." she said in a low voice.

"Oh my…" Rorek murmured, his now white eyes growing very, _very_ wide. The only color in this world, now, were the red eyes glowing from the shadow of Raven's hood. "I appear to be facing some difficulty…"

"Yep, she's mad. Nice knowing you!" Cyborg said cheerfully.

Raven blasted Rorek off the island and back into the water. But before he had fully hit the surface she was upon him. He managed to call up a shield of spellfire to block the black fist-spear she was attempting to drive into his chest. The water behind him froze but the ice was broken apart and the water itself was pushed out of the way so that they were falling down, down to the very bottom of the lake itself where some very surprised fish and other various water creatures were suddenly flopping around in great confusion.

Rorek managed to push Raven off with a large blast of spellfire and she brought the water crashing back down on them both. He created his bubble again but then found it being gripped by a large black hand with great claws that were digging in. The bubble shattered and Rorek created some ice beneath his feet in an effort to push himself up to the surface. The ice shattered to pieces seemingly of its own accord and the water itself felt as though it were trying to crush him. He tried to swim but another black hand grabbed him. To his great surprise it pulled him up out of the water and, before he knew it, was slamming him down onto the solid ground of the Titan's island. He gasped deeply when the hand released him and worked some swift healing magic on his body. The rush job was shoddy and he was going to hurt later, but it would do for now.

But then Raven herself was upon him. Her spellfire-enclosed fist had him by the neck and her other hand was crackling with black energy. "_Yield_!" she snarled.

"Not yet, M'Lady." he rasped. "Naykronah, Hetbriikah, Maartuz!"

The blast that followed this threw Raven high into the air and she let out a cry of pain. The colors of the world flickered back for a brief moment but did not return to normal even though her eyes lost their red hue. _Azar_ but that hurt! She managed to catch herself before she plummeted too far down and hovered, trying to recover swiftly because Rorek was rising to meet her on a slab of ice, spellfire overcharged and all too ready for use in his fists. Fortunately he couldn't seem to navigate his ice with much agility and proved to have a hard time focusing on both spellfire and flight. The result was that he could either move about or throw spellfire at her but could not do both at once. Raven used this to her advantage as she dodged and wove around his blasts with ease born of many years' experience. Soon enough she had recovered, her eyes glowing red once more.

She prepared an orb of black spellfire in her hands just above her head and threw it at Rorek, who obviously intended to simply block it with a shield of white spellfire. However, at the last second she shattered his ice once more and the shock of this action was enough. His distraction caused his shield to disappear and her blast hit him square in the chest. He let out a gasping cry of pain and Raven sent several swords of spellfire at him. He managed to block two of them with faltering shields but the third and fourth sword got him, turned into black chains that snaked around him, and sent electric charges through his body that incapacitated him.

He was still falling fast but Raven managed to catch him before he hit the water by turning into her bird shape. She then flew his limp, unconscious body back to the island.

(O)

The chamber that had once been used in an attempt to protect Raven from her 'destiny' about three years ago was almost too easy to turn into what was, by all accounts, a pretty effective prison. The symbols on the walls were changed and used as bases to secure Raven's black chains so Rorek would be going _nowhere_ and the locking mechanisms on the door were easily transferred to outside access only. Raven also cast the same defensive and protective spells around the chamber as she had her room. This meant that even if he _did_ manage to get out of the chains he'd have to break down the door – something that the security system would pick up immediately.

The chains were not too tight. They wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides while his wrists were bound behind him. There was a shackle on each ankle but other than that he wouldn't be too uncomfortable. Especially since Starfire had come down with a huge bright pink cushion big enough for three people to lie down on (provided they had no issues about personal space).

They made sure that everything was secure before all five Titans gathered in the rather awkwardly furnished prison and Raven allowed Rorek to regain consciousness by weakening the magical hold of the chains.

The wizard grunted slightly and, after a bit of movement meant to test the limits of his bonds, he managed to sit up. He looked around his prison a moment, then he looked at their stern expressions. "I see." he began. "You intend to keep me prisoner?"

"We'd rather not." Nightwing admitted. "But anyone that Raven needs to use her full power against is a bigger threat than we typically have to deal with. We're willing to believe that you are who you say you are, but that doesn't mean we're just going to hand you that book. Frankly, you haven't exactly given us any reason to trust you in anything so far."

"No…I suppose I have not." he admitted. "I see you have removed my grimoire as well." he observed.

Raven produced the thick black book. "I believe the term, if I remember it correctly, is something like 'Vae Victus'. 'Woe to the conquered', 'To the victor go the spoils', or – a more modern translation – 'Winner take all.'"

"Indeed, My Lady. And I believe most judges would agree that you have very thoroughly defeated me by your own power."

"Yeah, we weren't much help, were we?" Beast Boy muttered.

"By right of conquest the books, both of them, are now yours. As would be any land I owned if I were in possession of such." Rorek told her, bowing his head in submission.

"Yeah, and your wife would be mine too if I recall." she mused. There where a few snickers at that. Even Rorek chuckled.

"Quite so, M'Lady." he said. "Such a pity I have no wife for you either. I do hope you are not terribly disappointed."

"Dang, man. I was that close to bein' a bride's maid." Cyborg said with a disappointed snap of his fingers.

"_Anyway_," Raven began pointedly, "We don't exactly do things like that these days. However, by modern laws this book is the rightful property of Wayne Enterprises and we will be returning it. We might be able to appeal to authority and get it back but that will take a while." she explained.

"It would not be a good idea for that tomb to fall into any less-capable hands, My Lady." Rorek cautioned her. "There are some very…_potent_ magics within. Many of which could undoubtedly do untold damage in this time if used incorrectly and even more if performed with competency."

"I don't think you need to worry about that." she said. "No one of this time has any knowledge of the Draconic tongue save you, Malchior, and me – to a small extent."

"Yet these written words have power in and of themselves, Lady, whether one understands them or not. I urge you not to allow either book to leave your custody. The white book, particularly, for the dragon it holds and both books for the living potency of their very language." he explained.

Raven looked at Nightwing. "We'll see what we can do." he said, trying a bit too hard _not_ to put on his 'gonna have to talk to The Man again' expression.

"Thank you, Sir." Rorek nodded.

"So you're willing to relinquish all claims to the books?" Nightwing asked. Rorek nodded. "I guess that takes care of that problem, then. Do you promise not to use your powers for any evil purposes?"

"I swear." he answered.

"Then you're free to go." Nightwing said. Raven raised a hand to dispel the chains, releasing the white-haired sorcerer. "Welcome to the future."

Rorek seemed a bit taken aback as he slipped off the pink cushion to stand before them. "My thanks." he said, looking from one to another with a curious expression. "Tell me: Are all the people of this time so forgiving?"

"Not exactly." Nightwing answered, smirking.

"Yeah, we're special." Beast Boy said.

"Though I personally reserve the right to gripe at you for all the capacitors I had to replace." Cyborg muttered.

"Perhaps now that the Rorek is no longer to be fighting with us we can become friends!" Starfire exclaimed, eyes full of sparkles.

"And the cooling tubes, and those two mini fans…"

"Friends?" Rorek blinked several times as though doing so would somehow force the world to make more sense for him.

"And the graphics card for my wrist screen…"

"Sure. Why not?" Nightwing shrugged. "Seems to me like you could use some friends around here to help you get use to this time." he said.

"Some of the pixels got stuck on the screen itself, still gotta fix that…"

"You humble me." Rorek said, sweeping into another bow. "Truly I have found myself in exceptional company. T'would be an honor to count you all as my fellows."

"My pigment shifter got damaged too, not like I use it much but still…"

"Glorious!" Starfire cried, sweeping forward to grab Rorek up in one of her infamous bone-breaking hugs. "Welcome to the future, New Friend Rorek! Where there is much of the ice cream, cotton that is candy, popped corn, and lots and lots of the pizza!"

"I'm sure there are other problems I haven't found yet…"

"Um, Starfire? I don't think Rorek likes being touched…" Raven said. She didn't need empathy to see that. Rorek had frozen up and looked like he was trying to turn into stone so as to prevent himself from showing the raging emotions of turbulent discomfort she could feel erupting from him in pulses of contained anxiety.

"Probably gonna take _months_ to make sure nothing else is malfunctioning…"

"Oops!" Starfire immediately let Rorek go and hovered at a distance he was _much_ more comfortable with. Rorek calmed down almost immediately. "My apologies! There is a…touching taboo in your time?" she asked nervously.

"How'd you do that anyway? Magic ice never messed me up this bad before!"

"That's enough, Cy."

"Fine, fine."

"My Lady, I do not believe it would require a touching taboo to be wary of your embrace for surely you have the strength of ten men. However I must confess to some…personal difficulty in the area of physical contact. Do forgive me." he said.

"Well, dang. I was looking forward to seeing how well this room acted as a prison." Cyborg mused.

"If you wish I could permit myself to be bound once more and attempt an escape." Rorek offered. "It is not as though I truly have anywhere else to go."

"You do not? Then you must stay with us! We cannot allow a friend to wander with nowhere to go!" Starfire declared.

"Um, Star? I think that's something we're going to need to talk about first…" Nightwing said. "Come on, let's head upstairs. The view is a lot better."

(O)

Rorek had graciously agreed to wait in another room while the Titans discussed things but Raven made sure to place a silencing barrier around them just in case. Better safe than sorry.

"I don't mind letting him stay here if everyone else is okay with it, but I don't think we should trust him completely just yet." Nightwing began. "I also think we should keep our active contact with Malchior a secret. So it looks like he'll be staying in Raven's room again."

"Agreed." Raven said.

"Um…guys? Hello? What was the emergency? Are we still in trouble? Is it…er…magical trouble, maybe?"

"Can we keep that blue-eyed freak in her room too?" Cyborg asked, twitching. "'Cause Malchior is the only one who can shut him up and if he don't shut up soon I'll tear him apart, find what makes him tick, and stop the tick."

"Hello? Can—can you hear me? I see lips moving but I'm not hearing you!"

"It also stands to reason that if the Malchior is not all evil then the Rorek is not all good as we had once believed." Starfire pointed out.

"I can hear myself so my audio receivers are still active, I know that much. Um, is this some sort of other-dimensional holiday? The Reading of the Lips Day maybe?"

"We know that much already, man. I mean, he attacked us!" Beast Boy put in.

"Hello?"

"Is everyone okay with Rorek staying in the tower?" Nightwing addressed the question at all of them, but his gaze was fixed primarily on Raven.

"I would rather have him here where we can keep an eye on him just in case of surprises." she stated.

"If at all possible could someone install some lip-reading software in me so I might participate? Obviously I can't—well I can't do the lip-moving thing but I can at least half-participate, right?"

"Well if Raven's cool with it then I'm good." Cyborg said.

"Me too." said Beast Boy.

"Glorious! First we made the Malchior our friend and now we have the Rorek as well!" Starfire cheered.

"Alright, we're excited about something. Yes! I guessed it! So, no more trouble? Great! Now, what are we excited _about_? That is the next question…"

"Starfire, we're not telling him about Malchior. Not yet, alright? For all he knows Malchior is completely trapped in his book and talking to no one. Alright?" Nightwing said.

"Oh…yes very well." Starfire sighed. "But that means that he will not be able to do art upon our faces or complain about the illogical content of Beast Boy's video games. Oops! Sorry, Beast Man! I meant Beast Man!" she added hurriedly.

"Sorry, but we just don't know enough about Rorek yet. He might not react very well." Nightwing said.

"And now a serious discussion is going on, got it. Um…nope, haven't a clue what you're talking about. Could you give me a hint? Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

"Hey, Raven? Any chance you could put this sound barrier thing around him?" Cyborg asked eagerly.

(O)

"We've got plenty of rooms, but, you see, a lot of them are currently…in use." Nightwing gave Beast Boy and Cyborg pointed looks.

"We're gonna have to clean one of those out, aren't we?" Cyborg asked, grimacing.

"I do not wish to be a burden." Rorek said hurriedly.

"They need to be cleaned out anyway." Nightwing stated. "All of them, for preference."

"Guess the sub-basement's going to be getting even more crowded." Raven mused.

"Hey _Raven_…you know you're my favorite magic-user of all time, right?" Cyborg asked with a big grin.

"Do I look like a housekeeper to you? Clean your own messes." she answered.

"But it's already nighttime and we still have to unpack!" Cyborg whined.

"I think Rorek will be alright on the couch for tonight. But you two really need to do your own cleaning. It's only fair." Nightwing stated.

"That is more than acceptable. But, if I might ask, what are those two moving metal orbs with the blue and yellow glowing parts that look uncomfortably like eyes?" Rorek asked.

"Oh! This is Friend Wheatley whom Raven has placed a silencing barrier around and Friend Space Core whom Raven has also placed a silencing barrier around. They are also new friends that have come back with us from space. But they speak often and must be made silent for their own sake because they will not stop speaking otherwise and Cyborg has had enough." Starfire explained. "Do not worry! I shall be taking them to my room."

"To stay?" Cyborg asked hopefully.

"Alright, let's get our stuff in our rooms and go to bed." Nightwing said.

"Sounds like a good plan!" Beast Boy declared.

"Raven, would you mind showing Rorek where the bathrooms are since you're the only one who doesn't have any luggage in this dimension?" Nightwing asked.

"Sure. Come on, this way."

Raven led Rorek down the hall of a side passage to where the nearest bathroom was located. She opened the door to show it to him. "Most of our rooms now have their own bathrooms installed but there are others located in various places for those of us who _can't_ teleport." she explained.

"So, everyone but you, then." he guessed.

"Yeah, pretty much. Do I need to explain what everything is?" she asked.

"No, I think I understand. I have a rather rare ability called the Gift of Tongues and you would be amazed at how potent it is. Understanding language is not merely about knowing the words but also knowing the culture. Hearing the word 'bathroom' spoken, the common meaning of this word not only becomes known to me but as do many of its associating words. Shower, toilet, sink, soap, shampoo, plunger, and so on, are now part of my vocabulary. I understand them as well as what they are – for the most part, that is. It is a very useful gift – though, I admit, not all-encompassing. I imagine there are going to be many things about this time and culture that I will still require an explanation for. And now, My Lady," he began, "I sense that there is something else you wish to impress upon me."

"There is, in fact." she closed the door and turned to face him. "We're letting you stay in our home, we're willing to take you at your word that you are who you say you are, but we're not stupid. We've had certain experiences that have taught us better than to trust blindly. That being said I'm giving you this warning: If you threaten my friends ever again, if you threaten my city or any innocent within, then the next time we fight…"

He held his hands up in supplication, "There will not be a next time, M'Lady. I swear to you."

"Good, then we'll say no more about it." she said, backing down. "Also, just so we're clear, _don't_ go into my room, and don't ever touch my hand mirror again."

"I shall not." he added swiftly.

"Good."

(8)

A/N: "In their tongue he is 'Dovahkiin', Dragonborn!" Um, uh, I mean, hey! How come Rorek can use the Thu'um, huh?-! Looks like he stole more than just a power chant from the dragons the bloody thief XP. Lol, anyway, I'm not entirely sure why I decided to do it this way. For some odd reason I kind of wanted Raven to kick Rorek's butt. 0.o Sometimes I wonder if I have some pent-up aggression…

"I appear to be facing some difficulty."  
Plane English Translation = I'm in trouble.  
Urban English Translation = Meep.  
XD

Raven's time-stop power is TOTALLY CANON!-!-! The flock form is not…but it's still kinda cool, right?-! Anyone here played Bayonetta or Alice: The Madness Returns? If you're under 17 the correct answer is: _NO_. Point is: Flock forms = awesome.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Step-by-step instructions and GPS coordinates are simply too much to ask.

So…in case I _do_ wind up writing Triangles or Squares (not a sure thing yet but maybe…), which crack-drabble would you guys like to see first? You can only vote for one or two this time around.

A. Rorek falls madly in love with Raven on sight and begs to join the Titans  
B. Rorek falls madly in love with Wheatley and begs to join the Titans.  
G. Slade shows up and gets eaten by Malchior.  
I. The kitchen appliances organize a revolution and set out to conquer the bathrooms.


	9. The Gift of Flight

A/N: Way past bedtime…can't stop writing…AUGHR!

And the winner is…I. The kitchen appliances organize a revolution and set out to conquer the bathrooms. A and G tied for second with B bringing up the rear.

So! When I decide to write Triangles or Squares (still haven't decided yet) the first drabble shall be about the kitchen appliances. And it will be extremely silly. So be warned. Don't know when I'm gonna get around to writing it though…maybe sometime next week.

(8)

_She was a beautiful girl. My strongest memory of her was of a white dress stained by grass blowing in the hard wind. Flowers danced about her feet and her hair was whipping across her face. I wanted to think that, in time, I would come to love her. She seemed…different, special. As though there was some part of her that saw into dark places and it set her apart. But even then part of me knew that I could not give her what she needed. I was an unsuitable husband for any of the young girls in the village I had come to treasure as my own. They did not seem to understand this. I was handsome, mysterious, strong, and well-mannered. But, fortunately, their fathers saw the truth of things even if they could, or would, not. She wished to defy the wishes of her father but I refused. She did not understand and it hurt her. She told me I was the only person she could talk to, the only one who understood her. Perhaps I was, but that did not mean I could be for her what she needed. What sort of bond could we have had when I could not even bear to touch her and much less to kiss her beneath the eaves? Nothing like what a husband and wife are expected to share. Perhaps later, when she married a proper young man, she would realize how it was best that I left. Best that she simply pretend the darkness didn't exist._

_It shames me that, to this day, I cannot remember her name. Clearly I did not care for her as much as I believed. As if I needed more proof that I am unfit for the life of a real man. Perhaps the emerald dragon was right; perhaps I am the monster._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 9 – The Gift of Flight**

Some of the dolls grabbed at her when she dove her hand in for the book but she ignored them. She found the bag easily enough and pulled it out, knocking away the little rag dolls that were trying to cling to both her and it. She then took it back to the other closet – the one that had previously been its home – and then pulled it out of the bag.

"Ah, Raven. Have I…transgressed in some way?" Malchior asked uncertainly. "I've been in the bag for a while…" he added.

"No. Something's come up." she answered. She told him about Rorek. He was silent through her explanation. Dead silent. He didn't ask questions; he didn't offer comments. Was he surprised? Upset? Worried? Angry? Her empathy had never been able to pick up the moods of paper. Obviously. Paper didn't usually have moods.

When she was finished he remained unusually quiet for a long time. Finally, when she was about to break the silence herself, he said, "If you wish, I could verify his claims."

His voice was very blank. Now she was worried. "What do you mean?"

"I would know if he is Rorel or not." he explained.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Fine."

"I don't believe you." she stated. "You know he's relinquished his claim on you. I'm not going to give you back to him. Unless…that's what you want?"

"I think I would rather be thrown into the depths of Tartarus, chained to a rock, and have some big black bird come by every morning to breakfast upon my liver. Thank you."

"Then what's wrong?" she demanded.

"Nothing. It's stupid. Just forget it."

"Is there something about Rorel that we should know?" she asked.

Malchior sighed. "You know his story didn't end with the defeat of the dread dragon, right? You also know that some of the parts you _did_ read were…edited – and if you didn't then you do now. Well…the dragon's story did not end there either. We have…a history. One that's a little more involved than this book might describe even without my censoring. We never exactly became friends…but things happened…to the both of us. After the dragon's imprisonment the story turns very dark. It gets bad, Raven. Very bad. That's why I don't want you reading the rest. Of course I could alter it, but at this point why bother? Still…I'd really rather just forget all of it and pretend it was no more than a nightmare. I'm sure he would too. But he is the hero, I am the dragon. He has a duty to make sure I don't rise to destroy the world and blah-blah-blah. Having him here…I'm not sure which would be worse; that it really is him or some unknown enemy of ours pretending to be him. But I think it's him. An imposter would not have attacked you for this book. Instead they'd have waited to earn your trust. Rorel was never quite so patient."

"So he'll honor his word and leave you to me?"

"He will. He is a stickler for that sort of thing."

"Then there's no reason you should have to see him again." she said.

"Thank you, Raven, but I doubt that will last forever."

"Bright ray of sunshine you are." she muttered.

"Hello Pot, my name is Kettle."

Raven felt a chuckle escape her throat. "Alright, point made. I do have a question though: Is it possible for a human to use the Thu'um?"

"Well it takes a rather specific type of training and conditioning, but yes, absolutely. It helps if you have a bit of dragon in your ancestry but I think even humans with neither dragon blood nor even any particular skill in the arcane arts can be trained to use the Thu'um. Why? Are you interested in putting a bit more emphasis into your rare bouts of temper?" he asked.

"Um, no. Rorel used the words 'Fo' and 'Iiss' against us while we were fighting so I wondered." she answered.

"Ah…yes…" He didn't seem very keen that the conversation had angled back to Rorek. "Are you ready for another lesson in normal Draconic then?" he asked hopefully. Though she rather suspected this was just a means of swiftly changing the subject.

"Actually it's late, I'm tired, and I still need to take a shower so it will have to wait for tomorrow."

"Very well then. Need someone to scrub your back?" he asked playfully.

"You're volunteering? Your paper would get soggy."

"Maybe not. It's magic paper after all."

"It's still paper and it'll still get soggy. Goodnight Malchior." she said pointedly, though rather than slipping him back into the book back she simply laid him down on top of the chest and turned to leave her closet.

"Goodnight Raven." he returned, though with a far different tone of voice.

(O)

"**Can you hear me?"**

"**Yes! I can hear you! What do you want!"**

"**Hear me. There is a better way. One way for all. Let me show you the deep magics."**

"**Who are you? What do you want from me?"**

"**Time eats his children, but the first escaped. I am he. And I need your help."**

"**How can I help you? Where are you?"**

"**Learn the deep magics. Find the iron of the mind."**

Raven opened her eyes and sat up, reaching out for…something. For some reason she felt as if there had been a face of some sort in front of her. But she was in her room. It was a dream. And now she couldn't quite remember much about the face save for the fact that it had eyes. She let her arms fall to her sides. "Great." she groaned. She flopped back down on her bed. "Obviously some step-by-step instructions and GPS coordinates are simply too much to ask."

(O)

The morning breeze was soothing and Raven had to admit she liked listening to the rustling bits of flora in Starfire's rooftop garden. It was a bit windy today, but peaceful. The hustle and bustle of city life had yet to reach daytime-level chaos so it was still possible to pretend the various sounds flying across the waters were just the wind. It was a nice place and time to meditate, and she needed to meditate. She should have done it last night after unleashing all that power but they had all been extremely tired after that battle with Rorek. Better late than never.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

That power was still simmering in her veins, too hot, too palpable, too much. She had to pull it back in, bring it down, down deep within where it would lie dormant.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

In her mind she could see her own power as a chaotic dance of energies reflecting the colors of her emotions. Starbursts, ribbons, nebulas, speckles, and twisted images that looked like things for one second and nothing the next. It was pretty…but so was a forest fire.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

She drew that power down, creating a spiral within her. It was a whirlpool of power; sucking the chaos down, down into her core – deeper than her center. She kept her breathing slow and controlled.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

Once upon a time she had to do this to clear out her emotions as well. She wasn't entirely sure why but ever since Trigon's defeat her emotions and her powers had developed some odd sort of separation. Rather than her emotions making her powers go out of control, they became a focus of sorts. She didn't quite understand it. It was like something inside her had been rewired so that she worked differently. Or perhaps some bug had been found and dealt with so she worked _properly_.

Mmm, now she was thinking with computer analogies. Maybe she was spending too much time with Cyborg.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

Now her powers were dangerous because there was too much. She could handle it, she was in perfect control and she knew how to keep everything focused so she made no mistakes and had no accidents. But at times it was like juggling knives. She could do it, and easily, she knew. It was just that she preferred to be juggling two or three knives as oppose to two-hundred. Especially since, on a regular basis, she only _needed_ a few knives. All it would take was one knife to fall. Slip up with only a little power and it was fine. Slip up with the kind of power she'd been using to fight Rorek with, however…

She didn't like to think about it.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

She felt infinitely better with all that power locked back up. While she was at it she decided to clear out some emotions too. Technically she didn't have to anymore but, well, baby steps, right?

Three years later and she felt like she was still crawling…

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

She could feel the eyes on her but she chose to ignore them for the time being. She was good at ignoring disturbances, though this one…

She concentrated on clearing herself out first. Then she'd deal with him.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

(O)

"Can I help you with something?"

Rorel was a bit surprised when she addressed him. He was sure he'd been quiet and he thought he was keeping his presence hidden, but apparently he was not as good at hiding said presence as he thought.

"My apologies." he said swiftly. She hadn't even turned to look at him. "I did not mean to disturb you. I will leave if you prefer."

She shrugged. "I don't mind either way."

"Then…might I join you?" he ventured. This was dangerous and he knew it, but he could not help himself. No, that wasn't true. He _could_ help himself. He just did not _wish_ to.

"If you want."

It was a simple statement made in a simple tone that expressed neither desire nor aversion. Somehow that was worse than outright hostility. Hostility would have at least signaled that he'd made some impression. This flat apathy was maddening.

She was still wearing her hood up. Did she ever take it down? The shadow it cast over her features had to be intentional. But if he asked to see her face then she would undoubtedly ask to see his. Hmm…

He stood next to her at a comfortable distance and watched her for a moment before turning his gaze upon the water and the city beyond. The view was excellent, but still so strange and alien. He was no stranger to new and amazing sights. Even so, the massive behemoth that was now called a 'city' was…too much. He'd get use to it – he had to, this was his life now – but it was very daunting.

"I must confess my curiosity, M'Lady. What is it you are thinking of so deeply when you close your eyes and sit in the air like this?" he asked her.

"I meditate." she told him. "The point is to think of nothing so that sub-conscious thoughts and emotions can be recognized and dealt with, leaving the mind clear and focused."

"An intriguing concept. Must one be able to hover thus in order to achieve it?" he asked.

"It's not compulsory, no." she answered. "But you do need to find a position that's comfortable enough your body won't distract you with mild pains and yet not so comfortable you fall asleep."

"It seems to me that concentrating on levitation would not be beneficial." he forwarded.

"My levitation is a natural ability. It's not a spell I must concentrate constantly on. For me it's as easy as standing. I also find that keeping some part of my mind occupied by a menial task like this helps my focus."

"Can such an ability be taught?" Was there too much eagerness in his voice? The way she looked at him out of the corner of her eye made him think that she could probably tell how much he wished to fly like her.

"I'm afraid not. You have to develop your own method. You were doing pretty good with your ice. Why not use that?" she asked.

"Ice may be my first element but I have no natural ability to use it. Flying like that is not something I would be able to keep up for any great length of time." he explained.

"Then why not use your spellfire?" she questioned. She unfolded herself from her position and turned to face him. He had a moment's view of her form-fitting black garb from a much better angle before the white cloak dropped to conceal it. He was starting to resent that cloak.

He blinked, going over her words in his head. His brow furrowed in his confusion. "How do you mean, M'Lady?"

"Can you do this?" She created a sphere of her strange black, white-bordered spellfire just in front of her and began to fly it about her form in controlled and complicated patterns without looking at it.

He nodded. "Easily, M'Lady." he demonstrated with his own white, slightly transparent spellfire.

"What about this?" She then flattened the sphere into a disc and began manipulating its angle as well as its trajectory. He wondered where she was going with this.

"Yes, I think so." He mimicked her action. "It might take a bit of practice." Manipulating the angle of the disk as well as it's direction was just slightly trickier.

"Good. How big can you make it and still control it?" she asked. Her own disk became about the size of a man and she began moving about above them with what appeared to be no effort at all.

He enlarged his own disk and sent it into the air to join hers. He still wasn't sure what her intention was with this but somehow his attempts at both testing his own prowess in this particular area as well as his desire to impress the lady turned it into a sort of game. Their disks made a soft 'sch' noise when they touched and somehow the game was now an attempt on her part to prevent their disks touching while his part was to make it happen. Her disk wove about the sky above them, ducking and weaving about, making use of it's flat sides as it spun over to avoid his and then dipping around in a pattern that he found himself mimicking. Somehow it seemed to be necessary to keep the disks level throughout the majority of their flight and to always have the same side facing up. He noticed that and, after some time following this example, Raven's disk disappeared.

"Now," she began. "Can you do this?"

Her disk then reappeared beneath her feet and lifted her a few feet into the air. Then, using only the power of her spellfire disk, she soared into the air. She rode her disk through several of the patterns she had shown him previously, her cape whipped back around her shoulders by the force of the air resistance and her body twisting and bending as though her movements controlled the disk rather than her own power. Then she was back, still hovering a foot above the ground, her body language expectant.

He looked at her, and then he looked down at his feet. He recreated his own white disk beneath him and slowly used it to lift himself in the air. He was very unsteady and knew that at any moment he would slide off the tilting, tipping thing. Then he realized – feeling a bit foolish for it – that he could fuse his boots to the disk even more securely than he had done with the ice. Now there was no fear of falling, but he was still unsteady.

"You make it look so easy." he commented, trying to stop wobbling about and _certainly_ trying _very_ hard _not_ to make a fool of himself. This was certainly not the same as flying on a slab of ice – though he wasn't entirely sure why this should be so.

"Yes, well, I _have_ been doing this all my life." she reasoned. "You'll get use to it."

"This is far different from simply controlling the disk from afar." he said. He took a deep breath and tried to get his thumping heart under control. The fear of falling might not be there anymore, but, he realized, the definite fear of looking a fool in front of this lady was just as powerful. "Would your meditation make this easier, do you think?" he asked her.

"Definitely. You're scared of something and it's not helping you." Was it that obvious?-! "Try not to think about it. Get your breathing under control and try to relax physically as well as mentally. Focus solely on the task at hand. This is your power. Make it listen to you. Don't let your emotions get in the way. Focus them. Redirect them. _Use_ them."

The point of meditation was to think of nothing. He'd start with that, then. He took several deep breaths and cleared his thoughts of everything save for the disk beneath him. That was when he realized he wasn't doing himself any favors by allowing his body to control the movement of the disk. He forced it flat with his power alone. His body swayed a bit from the sudden lack of unstable ground but his boots were stuck firmly and he used them to stand up straight.

"Good. Just keep that up. You are in control, the disc can do nothing unless you allow it." Rorel tried to focus solely on her words but that was just a bit difficult. He never thought he'd find a low gravely voice so attractive in a woman. "Now take your fear and turn it into something else; something you can use."

Determination, he decided. He would _not_ make a fool of himself. He was in control. This disk was of _his_ power. More deep breaths. He opened his eyes. Raven gave him an encouraging nod of approval and then used her disk to fly up several yards above him. He took two more deep breaths and slowly rose up to meet her. Perhaps his disk hovered just a bit closer to hers than necessary, but he could blame that on his present lack of experience. She flew backwards in a swerving pattern, slow and easy, and then she stopped some distance away. She clearly intended him to mimic her.

Determination. And now, he decided, he had a goal. If he could get her flying fast enough, that cloak would become a cape again. Her hood might even fly off.

He did not fly quite as fast as she had at first, but the more he did this serpentine pattern the more sure he became of his movements. He drew up next to her. This time she went up and down, curving her disk around the pattern so that it angled as she dipped and rose. He followed her slowly and awkwardly, but once more the patterns became easier and he was faster.

Gradually she began to lead him through more and more complicated patterns so he had a better feel for this. He grew faster, more confident, and was soon able to keep up with her patterns so that she didn't have to stop and wait for him. He realized that, when she moved her body about as she made these patterns, she was not using these movements to control the spellfire but rather as a focus for her trajectory.

"Alright," she said after a while, "Now let's see how fast you can go." and she whipped around him, shooting off down the wide expansive river at speed. He followed, excitement griping his heart as he threw his fears away and raced after her.

And then it wasn't a game anymore. Then the sheer elation of flight and the realization of this new power took hold and he found himself unable to care about anything else. Rorel laughed from the joy of it all as he soared at speed across the river. Soon he was past Raven, testing himself and how fast he could go. But she drew up next to him, now allowing him to take the lead as they flew out of the city boundaries and into what had to be an ocean. No mater how fast he went, however, Raven could keep up. Her white cloak billowed behind to reveal the black-clad form beneath. Despite his elation, it was still hard to keep himself from staring. Eventually they turned around and headed back towards the tower. The sting of the wind was harsh at these speeds but not harsh enough to stop him. This was absolutely _wonderful_.

They slowed down as they drew near the tower and he was able to shout to her above the wind. "This is amazing, M'Lady! I cannot believe I have never thought of this before!"

She gave him a small, brief smile. "I don't know about you," she began, "but I'm working up an appetite. I'm getting some breakfast." she said. Her disc then angled back towards the roof of the T-shaped tower.

Rorel stopped and watched her fly away. An overwhelming sense of loss swept through him for a moment. He didn't quite understand why this feeling had been so potent. He thought of ignoring it and continuing his foray into the elation of true flight, but he got the distinct impression that, though flight was now open and free to him whenever he would desire it, the lady's company was not.

He decided to follow her. He did not wish to cease the experience of his newfound freedom and power, but, he reasoned, he could come back out here and continue at a later time. Right now…

He did not wish to be alone.

"I didn't mean you had to come with me. You're perfectly welcome to continue on your own." she told him when he landed next to her, banishing his disk as his feet neared the ground.

"My stomach believes otherwise, M'Lady." he lied.

She let out a short chuckle and gave him a brief smile that made bits of him twist up on the inside. "Are you sure you've never flown like that before?" she asked, leading the way to the rooftop door.

"I have flown upon the backs of winged creatures and hovered at moments upon the surface of ice, but never have I possessed such a freedom of flight that you have given me this day." He moved to stand in front of her just as they reached the door, stopping their progress. He gently clasped one of her hands in his so he knew he would have all her attention. Their eyes locked, though hers were still slightly shrouded by the shadow of her hood. "No words could express my gratitude for this gift, My Lady. If there is any way I might repay you, you need only ask. I know I have little to offer, but whatever is within my power to give shall be yours."

He could feel it. The slumbering storm of power that pulsed beneath her flesh; dormant and controlled, but so very palpable to the right senses. It made his skin tingle and caused shivers to run up and down his spine. The closest comparison he could make was that it felt akin to touching a lightning stone with one's bare hands. Though perhaps this particular lightening stone was holding a star instead.

So, this _was_ the same sorceress whose touch had woken him. Amazing. He had suspected, though he'd needed to touch skin-to-skin to be sure.

She drew her hand back to his disappointment. But he saw she was looking a bit uncomfortable. Was there a blush beneath that hood? By the gods he hoped so. Finally he was making an impression.

"That's really not necessary…" she told him awkwardly. "I'm glad I was able to help."

"Clearly you underestimate the value of such an ability. It is entirely necessary. You may consider me at your disposal, M'Lady." he told her. Then, bowing low, he stepped aside and opened the door for her.

"You…really don't need to do that. I'm perfectly capable of opening my own doors." she stated primly. He tried not to feel too pleased with himself. She was flustered and trying to cover it up with irritation.

He managed to swallow his chuckle. "I am well aware, My Lady. Forgive my ancient ways. I imagine many of my habits will seem out of place in this culture." he said. But he stayed where he was and waited until she walked past before following and closing the door behind him.

_Dangerous._ part of him warned. He ignored it.

(O)

No one else was up yet. Either that or they just weren't in the living room. Probably the battle with Rorek had tired them all out. It'd tired her out too but Azar forbid she get any actual sleep when there was something apparently monumental looming up on the horizon. Looked like breakfast would be up to Raven. She pulled her hood down and began to gather her hair up into a ponytail at the knap of her neck so it'd be out of her way.

"I hope you like waffles; it's about all I can cook." she told Rorek. "What?" she asked. He was staring at her intently. Too intently. She was glad she'd meditated. The emotions those eyes were calling up in her were too powerful and unfamiliar. She'd managed to get a hold of herself on the way down to the kitchen after said emotions had decided to have a party in her gut up on the roof, but now she was facing those eyes. She felt…

No, too much, too quickly. She couldn't do this. She bundled these emotions up and locked them away to be dealt with later.

"Ah, nothing! I apologize. What are waffles?" he asked.

"The Gift of Tongues doesn't cover waffles?" she nearly demanded. She was almost affronted. How could this power give him knowledge of a bathroom but not _waffles_?-! That wasn't right!

"It appears that having no knowledge of these waffles is not something that would cause as much of a barrier in daily conversation as being ignorant of a toilet might." he mused.

"No…I guess it wouldn't…" she admitted grudgingly. She turned to the kitchen and began levitating the necessary ingredients from various drawers and cupboards.

She actually enjoyed cooking quite a lot. Too bad she was no good at it.

"Do you do this often, M'Lady?" Rorek asked.

"No." she sighed. "Like I said, waffles are the only things I'm good at cooking. Everything else sort of…becomes inedible."

"Hmm…In my time no established sorceress would deign to prepare food. Perhaps there is something about extensive practice in the arcane arts that dulls one's ability to cook." Rorek mused.

"No, I just can't cook." Raven stated flatly, measuring out ingredients. "I imagine the reason the sorceresses of old wouldn't cook was the same as it was for sorcerers."

"What reason?"

"Pride." she answered. She had all the ingredients in her bowl but rather than mixing them with magic she decided to do it herself. There was something very satisfying about beating the dough with a wooden spoon. "Human nature being what it is, social views have developed the opinion that, since women are generally better at cooking and cleaning and other such domestic activities than men, this is to be 'women's work' while the hunting and protecting is to be 'men's work'. There is nothing wrong with this on the whole; the problem is that people decided that the 'women's work' was somehow inferior and performing these activities was demeaning. I imagine back in your time women did not have an equal social standing as men?" she inquired.

"Sadly no, M'Lady. Only the sorceresses were given the same social status as their male counterparts." he answered.

"I imagine that's only because a sorceress had the power to force the issue."

"Again, I fear, you are correct. Indeed, there is an old saying that kept the ladies of magic in their position and maintained an only _somewhat_ shaky union between the two sexes in the arcane arts. It goes as thus: 'A woman with half the power of a man is twice as potent.' Any halfway intelligent sorcerer learned very quickly to take this to heart."

"I'm…not sure how well that might apply today. Magic has sort of taken a back seat to super powers in this millennia." Though it was certainly flattering. "Besides, we don't have the same social separation these days. At least not in this part of the world. So it doesn't mater much anymore. Things are different."

"Better, I imagine." he said.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But to be honest it seems like every time you fix one problem in the world several more turn up. We'd like to think it's better, but really it's just a different kind of bad. Some things are better, some things are worse, and some things that didn't even exist back then are now issues. It just depends on your perception." She poured her batter into the waffle maker and set it to cook. It was the mass waffle maker so it would do a dozen at a time. Maybe she should put blueberries into the next batch. Did they have blueberries? She went to check.

"Then clearly I have much to learn."

She stood up holding the blueberries and found he was suddenly next to her. He took the berries from her with a bow.

"Perhaps this ancient sorcerer might learn to cook?" he asked.

"I only know how to make waffles..." she reminded him uncertainly.

"Then I shall learn to cook waffles. If the arcane arts are not to blame for my loss of cooking capabilities then perhaps it is a skill I might relearn."

"You use to cook?"

"When I was apprenticed I did so, yes. In my time an apprentice was, by definition, already inferior and expected to do the chores. All of them. Even the so-called 'women's work'. I have not done so since, however, and must be terribly out of practice." he mused.

"The foods are also going to be completely different from what you were use to." she reasoned.

"Indeed. So, My Lady, what are we to do with these?" he asked, indicating the blueberries he was holding.

Sometime later...

The four late-rising Titans all stared at the hostile pastry takeover. The smell had been what finally dragged their tired and sore bodies out of bed. It'd been worth it, even if the sight that greeted them was a bit…odd.

"The living room appears to have been visited by the violent twisting storm of waffles." Starfire observed. Beast Boy and Cyborg were already in their happy places.

"Um, yeah, we got a bit carried away beating the batter..." Raven explained sheepishly.

"Who would have thought such an action could be so…enjoyable?" Rorek mused.

"So, uh, enjoy?" Raven offered.

The Titans all looked at one another.

"WAFFLES!" Cyborg and Beast Boy cheered.

(8)

A/N: I now have a truly masterful plan to defeat the Teen Titans!-!-! I shall hack into all their mp3s and subtly alter the wave lengths so that faint subliminal messages will brainwash them all into thinking Wheatley would make a good cook! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-! Good thing I'm not a villain or this would TOTALLY WORK!

Ah, poor Rorek. A slave to narrative causality. And then there's the fact that he hasn't had any real female contact for the past millennia, he just saw Raven's 'I killed Trigon; don't screw with me' awesomeness yesterday, and Raven's pale skin would be quite a bit more attractive to him than Starfire's bronze tan (even if Raven _is_ about 100 lbs too light to be a traditional medieval beauty). I'd feel sorry for him if I wasn't such a fangirl 8D.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
You're well over a thousand years old and you have acne?

**PLEASE READ: **Okay, so I can't decide here. Some of you seem to like the name 'Rorel' a lot but I had planned on keeping it as 'Rorek' officially since that's canon (or, at least, make it official for everyone who wasn't Rorek himself, lol). So, let's have another vote! Who wants him to stay 'Rorek' and who wants 'Rorel'? (No, you can't vote for both. That would be _unhelpful_) If I do not get enough votes for one or the other I'm sticking with 'Rorek' as the default since it _is_ canon. You have until…(checks draft) before chapter 11 to vote. So that's this chapter and the next. (Anonymous votes are accepted even if all you type is 'Rorek' or 'Rorel') Thanks!


	10. Gods in the Dark

A/N: Some of this I am totally making up. Other parts I steal from other fandoms. It's fan fiction, I don't care, you can't stop me 8P.

Looks like most people are all for sticking to Rorek (officially anyway). Sounds good to me! Even if the Draconic translation is a bit…awkward XD. Don't worry, I'll explain that later.

(8)

_She told me I had the power and the talent for sorcery. All I needed was skill and knowledge. She told me she would give them to me, but I had to do everything she wished. And so I did. Despite all the cruelties I faced at the hands of this sorceress, I could neither come to hate her nor to wish her ill. She was too much like the emerald being I had murdered. Beautiful, cold, hurting, and frightened. I cooked her meals, cleaned her floors, washed her clothing, and assisted her spells. I protected her, and constantly did I wish for an end to her fear. Perhaps I felt that if I could banish her fear, could heal her wounds, then I might atone for the dragon I murdered all those years ago; her words haunting me still._

_But on the day my training was complete she turned me from her door. I begged to stay; so sure that I must heal her, so determined that she should not fear me. I even went so far as to ask her hand in marriage, convincing myself that I could overcome my fear of touch for this. But she refused me._

_I would not leave. I was determined to stay and do what I believed I must. But as the days wore on her fear only increased. It was apparent to both of us who had the greater power and she could not cast me out by force. I pleaded with her, I continued to act as her servant, I did everything I knew to do in order to gain her love and trust but nothing worked. Finally her fear became too much for me to bear and I left._

_Never again would I seek the company of a woman who feared me. I decided that if I was to marry anyone that it would have to be a sorceress of greater power than my own. Perhaps such an ideal was folly for the women I would later come to desire had learned their own harsh lessons. They knew better than to love a man, any man, no matter how honest his intentions might be._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 10 – Gods in the Dark**

Malchior was incredibly pleased with himself.

Two stories later and Raven was _still_ trying hard not to giggle about what she'd realized during a Draconic rendition of "The Nutcracker" that he'd made up for her. He was hoping she'd figure it out. The last thing he wanted to do was spell it out for her; that wouldn't be nearly as much fun and certainly wouldn't have her giggling like this during his version of "Dagon".

"Ruvaak, [are you listening to me?]" he asked.

"[Yes, sorry, go on.]" she answered without hesitating. It really was amazing just how swiftly she picked this up.

"[Honestly, Raven; I'm sure that when Mr. Lovecraft wrote this, the last reaction he was expecting was a giggle.]" he chided. But he was too cheerful about it and she just smirked at him.

It was petty, he knew. But in this position it was all the revenge he'd be able to exact. What more could he do? Beating the living snot out of that blue-eyed prick was out of the question. Paper wasn't that strong and he couldn't go very far from the book. He also couldn't move it himself, either. The reason for this was a bit complicated and had to do with his paper body's connection to the book. He was, more or less, an extension of the book. The paper form was like a hand reaching out from the body by way of an invisible and ephemeral arm. One could say his weight was in the book; when he picked it up he couldn't move. He might as well try to fly by picking up his feet with his hands.

He did take heart from the fact that Raven had apparently ground His Excellency the Knight in Shining Armor's pretty face in quite hard, but Malchior knew only too well what Rorel's default reaction was to a woman who defeated him in magical combat and it was _not_ a natural one.

They were both pretty screwed up, he had to admit. Obviously Rorel wouldn't have any more desire than Malchior to let Raven know just how _much_ they were screwed up. Neither of them would be willing to try explaining to anyone the real reason Rorel wanted the book so much. And Malchior couldn't find the courage, or even the words, to tell Raven the real reason he hated Rorel being here.

It…hurt. That was it, wasn't it? It hurt, and it hurt a lot more than he could have imagined. He tried to tell himself that it didn't. He was fine. He just didn't have any love for the guy who'd locked him up in a book for a thousand years. The last thing he wanted was to leave the custody of a beautiful young sorceress. Facing an eternity of no one to talk to but that blue-eyed pretty boy made him want to find an active volcano and sacrifice himself for the prosperity of whatever village that had decided living close to it was a good idea.

But it was more than that. So much more.

He had been accepted, forgiven, and even _befriended_. Stupid conversations, intimidated metal balls, and interactive fiction with a distinct lack of sensible logic. He had been looking forward to it. And now? Now, because of Rorel, he was being shut back up in the closet. His newfound friends wanted to protect him and he was too much of a coward to tell them that they didn't need to. He didn't want to explain why the famous dragon slayer wasn't actually here to destroy him once and for all or something of that ilk.

Perhaps he should not have edited the book quite so much. But it was proper, wasn't it? The knight in shining armor was the good guy. The dragon was the bad guy. That was the story; that was how history remembered them before it forgot them almost entirely (and unless Rorel wanted to change his name to Beowulf then they'd stay forgotten). Was it possible that this was how he'd _wanted_ the story to go? Maybe. The truth was so much harder to accept. It would be so much easier to say that dragons were evil and men were good. It would be so much easier to point at all the stories that showed this and ignore the fact that they'd all been written by humans (who, of course, record things with _complete_ honesty and don't leave _anything_ out; not even the bits where it turns out they started the whole mess in the first place). So much easier to say, "I am the dragon, I am evil, this is how things are."

But he couldn't. All those things he'd done to deserve being sealed away in this book had been his own crimes. Being a dragon had nothing to do with any of it. Being a dragon had nothing to do with the way he'd broken Raven's heart…

_She forgave me._ he reminded himself. _She even fought for me, to protect me. Perhaps there is hope. Perhaps this time I can win her heart honestly and with no other motivation._

Was it any wonder he'd gone and made himself the hero of the story? Changed the names so that, for once, someone would love _him_ instead of Rorel?

He continued going through H. P. Lovecraft's "Dagon" in Draconic. Raven knew the story already so she was mostly piecing things together. Obviously it was working well. This was only their second time using the story method and already she was getting a feel for the combined words. There was a logic to it all, but it was complex and involved; it was something you just had to get a feel for.

He stopped abruptly when he heard the knock on the door.

"Don't worry. I have a silencing barrier surrounding my room. We can hear them but they can't hear us." she told him calmly. She picked up the book, slipped it under her pillow, and went to answer the door. "Stand in the corner and pretend you're a mummy or something."

There weren't many corners to make use of. Albeit there were more than normal rooms typically boasted (Raven had been playing around with dimensions since the last time he had free reign of this room), but most of them were already in use. He settled for a small space of unoccupied wall next to a book shelf and got into place just as she was opening the door.

He tensed when he heard Rorel's voice. And yes, it was most certainly Rorel. He could _feel_ it, and it was all he could do not to jump out and try to rip his head off.

"The Lady Starfire has been teaching me to make dishes from her homeland. I am not sure I know where Tamaran is, but the food is certainly interesting. Would you like to try some?"

"Um…Rorek? Tamaran is another planet. And some of their food isn't exactly safe for human consumption…or the consumption of anyone with fewer than nine stomachs. You…haven't eaten any yourself, have you? You have, haven't you?"

Rorel coughed. "Is there a modern healer in the building that might have experience with this sort of thing?"

"Go have Cyborg check you over in the infirmary. With any luck you'll just get a bit sick and be fine sometime tomorrow."

"Ah, good, do excuse me then."

Raven shut the door and returned.

"He's cooking for you?" Malchior asked in a carefully neutral tone.

"Define 'cooking'."

Malchior snickered.

"So, that _was_ Ror—" she bit her lip and cleared her throat. "That was Rorel?" she asked in a carefully steady voice.

"Yes, most definitely." he answered with a nod.

"Hm, I wonder why someone would shut him up in a book too." she mused.

"I don't know; I wasn't there. But if I were to hazard a guess I'd say they were probably trying to save his life. Complicated history, remember? Rorel wasn't exactly everyone's favorite little dragon slayer, you see." he explained.

"I think I can get a picture. So how much of the diary did you edit?"

"Quite a bit. I wouldn't trust the details." he admitted.

"I don't remember much of it anyway. So if you could edit the story like that why didn't you just edit the rest of it rather than simply refuse to let me read it?" she asked curiously.

"I did, but everything changed back when I…" he paused, 'When I ripped out of it as a dragon and proceeded to crush your heart as I attempted to roast you alive' would probably not go over too well. He _edited_ the sentence. "…stepped out of the book for some fresh air and, er, moonlight." It worked. Raven let out a snort of laughter. "Only the Dragon to English translation stuck. Everything else snapped back like a rubber band and I didn't really care enough to change it up again. I didn't really think I'd ever have a reason to." he admitted.

"Ah, so if I went back and read it now,"

"You'd find out a few things about Rorel that he'd undoubtedly rather you not know, yes." Malchior answered. He brightened up. "Would you like to read it?" he asked her cheerfully.

She shook her head. "I think I liked that story better when I thought you two were fictional characters. Now it'd just feel like an invasion of privacy." Her eyes strayed to a clock that was sitting on the top shelf of one of her bookshelves. Malchior wondered if it was hiding another closet. She seemed to have them everywhere. "I need to talk to Nightwing about something before he goes to bed. But that reminds me; do you remember that dragon poem you translated for me the first day? The one with the original version of your draconic focus chant carved into that stone monument?" she asked.

"Yes. They're called Dovahgolz, or Dragon Stones. What about it?"

"It mentioned something about Time eating his children, and I've been having some odd dreams. I was wondering what that was all about. As far as I know it isn't exactly in the nature of time itself to eat things." she said.

"Odd dreams?"

"Yeah, I've been having them for the past few months. Recently they've been getting more frequent and…clearer. I keep hearing these phrases. Like, 'Time eats his children', 'the first escaped', 'become like me', and 'it's a warning'."

He raised an ink eyebrow. Well, that was interesting. "I think I can piece those together for you." he told her. "The part you're thinking of is 'Rok naak ok kiir / Alokgein filok / Mahgein du rok', which basically translates to something along the lines of, 'Time eats his children but the first escaped and the last ate him back.' Not the prettiest turn of phrase, I know, but I can't really think of any other way to put it. The 'become like me' part is probably a hint as to what the verse actually means.

"It's a warning – that is to say, a caution for fathers or parents in general. It's based on some old stories about a god – the one whose power was of time, naturally – and the issues he had with his kids. What it really means is that you, as a parent, should not try to force your child to become what you are; to be you. Jointly it also means that you shouldn't try to contain or trap your child. I think the story goes that Time ate his children so they would be him and could never leave him. He did this because his first child refused to become Time as well and ran away. And then the last child turned around and retaliated by eating _him_ instead. The warning is that your children will not love you if you try to contain and control them to the point that you are practically eating them. Instead they will either run or lash out.

"Now, that's not to say one shouldn't _discipline_ one's children; there's a difference between discipline and control. Slapping their hand when they reach for a sweet you already said they could not have is discipline. Telling them off for drawing things because _you_ can't draw or you just don't like it is control."

"Seems like a fine line to me." Raven mused.

"Intention has a lot to do with it. If your intention is to teach and guide them out of love then a controlling behavior is not so easy to slip into. But if you just like having power over someone else then it turns into abuse."

Raven lifted an eyebrow of her own at him. "You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing. Had kids yourself?" she asked.

"Me? No! It was…I just…sometimes I just liked to listen to some old men talk about this stuff and I thought about it a lot and…" She was smirking at him. This wasn't working. Unless he told the truth, or at least part of it, she was going to draw up her own conclusions. He sighed. "My…_mother_ was…she was a power-hungry overbearing bitch who had to be in control of absolutely everything. Alright?"

Her expression was unreadable for several uncomfortable seconds. Then she broke eye-contact. "My…father was like that…" she muttered softly, not looking at him.

Malchior felt himself smiling, though he had only his paper eyes to express it. "I wonder what would have happened if they'd ever met." he mused, trying to lighten the mood a bit. He couldn't help but speculate that Raven's father probably wasn't completely human. "Sparks? A bit of flame-throwing? The end of the world, perhaps?"

"Most likely." she responded with a small smirk. "Fortunately for me he wasn't around for most of my life."

"Yes, I managed an escape of my own. Though, to be honest, I'd have been even more happy with the eating option."

"Really? Before the existence of mustard or barbeque sauce? Would you have been able to stomach it?"

He chuckled. "No, probably not, come to think of it. Anyway, you say you are having odd dreams? What sort of dreams?"

"At first they just came every now and then. I might have been having them for over a year now and just didn't notice. But a few months ago I started having them once a week, then about twice a week, then three times a week. Now it's getting to the point where I only seem to be getting a good night's sleep every twice a week if even that much. I never remembered much of them either. Not until recently. I'd just sort of toss and turn in bed and then wake up feeling like I hadn't slept at all the next morning. Lately, though, I've started remembering words and phrases. I can't remember all of them. Some of them I don't understand, others seem to be from that dragon stone poem of yours, and I know there was at least one that was very odd. 'Hide your hair' or something like that. 'Nails', maybe. I don't know.

"Anyway," she went on, "One of the phrases was, 'can you hear me?'. When I finally shouted out that I _could_ suddenly one of the voices starts talking to me a bit more clearly and without all the others whispering along. It told me that it was the first child of time; the one that escaped. And that he needed my help. Er…what is it? Malchior? Are you alright?"

No. He _wasn't_ alright. He very much was not alright. A small, numb part of him wondered dully if it was possible that the wave of bowl-knotting _terror_ washing over him could be properly conveyed in an expression that had no more than a pair of eyes made entirely out of paper and ink. He decided that even an entire face wouldn't be able to do a proper job of it.

"Malchior?" She sounded worried now. Very worried. Oh good. Maybe that meant he'd be able to explain this to her _without_ screaming.

"Raven," he began in a voice of numbed calm, "The children of Time, in any story, were all gods." Now, how to make her understand why being contacted by such a god was very, _very_ bad. This would be tricky. "And you know that all the gods were sealed away in scrolls, right?" If he'd had a proper throat it would be dry now. Good thing he was already dry and still talking regardless. "But those that _weren't_ were the ones that had been imprisoned in Tartarus."

"Alright," she began carefully, "but I seem to remember one story in which some being or other was imprisoned in Tartarus because he stole the gift of fire from the gods and gave it to humans. So they can't all be bad, right?"

Okay, don't scream. Just don't scream. Stay calm, stay numb. It isn't _that_ bad. It could be worse. It really could be worse. For instance: The sun could blow up, all the other planets in the solar system could suddenly decide the earth would look really nice as a pancake, time could come to a complete stop, the old gods of H. P. Lovecraft's imagination could suddenly decide to exist, and…well…there were plenty of things that could be worse – if only marginally.

He tried not to raise his voice. It didn't work. "No, Raven, he was imprisoned in Tartarus for setting a lot of humans _on_ fire!" he snapped. And that was such an understatement he didn't even know where to _begin_. He took a deep breath – a mental need rather than a physical one – and let it out, trying to calm himself down. "Stories get mixed up in the retelling. You know this. One word changes, and then another word changes, and suddenly it's not the same story anymore. Somewhere down the line my name goes from Mahkriiod to Malchior to Grendel and Rorel to Rorek to Beowulf." _Calm down, just calm down._ he ordered himself. "The point is: One does not get sent to Tartarus for pulling _pranks_." If the very foundations of reality could be fractured by way of supreme understatements then it would have done so at this point.

"And…supposing this is a scroll-sealed god?" she asked. "I'm not use to simply ignoring a call for help." she informed him severely.

"_All_ the gods were bad, Raven. It's just that the ones locked up in Tartarus were the worst." He mentally checked to make sure reality hadn't actually developed a crack and went on. "You remember the stories of the Greek and Roman gods? Perhaps some of them didn't do a lot of harm but they damn well didn't help either! Three goddesses get into a tiff about who's the 'fairest in the land' and it all explodes into a bloody massacre that no one takes any responsibility for. Why should they? They're gods. Mortals kill and get killed all the time; why should they care? Besides, it's a lot more _fun_ when it happens in massive quantities." he snarled bitterly.

"But it wouldn't be one of them." he continued. "I admit that there might be more scrolls around somewhere, but…suffice it to say the sealing spell that Rorel developed and the original one that captured the gods were a bit different. For one: The original spell required a _blank_ scroll upon which the god's very being would be translated into the characters of their first language. What it did, what it was _meant_ to do, was to more or less _kill_ the god by turning their body, mind, and power into words, thus robbing their souls of any suitable vessel. Any sense of cognitive existence that might cling to these scrolls would be no more than a spectral shadow – a memory imprinted upon the world. A ghost, in other words. You could say that Rorel's version was simply _inspired_ by the original."

"Then it definitely wouldn't be one of them." she sighed. "You are certain it could only be a god from Tartarus? You know for a fact that _none_ of them might be innocent?"

"Do you remember me mentioning that the dragons worship something beyond gods? There are higher powers, Raven. Powers even _they_ fear. Don't ask me too much; it's too deep. Just trust me when I tell you that there are no innocents in Tartarus. None at all."

"Weren't you telling me earlier that you'd rather be sent to Tartarus than handed back to Rorek – I mean Rorel?"

"Maybe I was exaggerating a bit…"

"But why would a god in Tartarus be contacting me for help?" she asked. "It doesn't make sense, Malchior. There's only one thing they could possibly want and if Tartarus was so easy to break open then it would have happened a long time ago. I couldn't possibly be able to do it."

"I wish I were as confident in your impotence as you seem to be." he stated, almost snidely. She gave him a look of some surprise. She just didn't get it! He grabbed her by the wrist, feeling his carefully controlled fear turning into anger. "Do you think I'm senseless?-! That I can't feel this?-!" He placed her hand on his paper chest. "Every time you touch me I can feel it! I can feel the electric currents of power you keep dormant and suppressed within yourself. I don't know what happened to you in the past few years we've been out of touch but you are not the same! You have the power of a Draconic High Priest locked up nice and snug but I can feel it and I'm not so sure you _couldn't_ break open Tartarus."

She snatched her hand back, her eyes flashing with fire and defiance, "I _couldn't_!" she snapped at him. "If this prison is actually controlled by powers greater than the gods then I couldn't possibly be able to do anything."

How much could he tell her? Would she be able to understand? No. And it would be worse if she did. "Every wall has a crack, Raven. How much are you willing to wager on the assumption that they haven't found one by now? One that, perhaps, _you_ could use? Are you willing to risk _everything_ to answer one call for help?" he demanded, grabbing her shoulders. "Would you like to know what it was like when the gods were around?-! Would you like to know what might happen if they were unleashed again with none of the not-quite-as-bad gods to fight with?-! Perhaps we'll be lucky! Perhaps they will decide to fight amongst themselves. But who is it that always suffers the most when the powerful fight? What are you willing to risk, Raven?"

She stared at him. There was a strange expression on her face that he didn't quite recognize. Then the steady feel of her shoulders under his paper hands made him realize that he was shaking, and violently. His paper body was mimicking the reactions flesh. One wouldn't think paper could feel so strongly like this. Emotions were physical things, weren't they? Things of flesh, right?

No, not entirely. Words had emotion. Love letters dabbed with scent, apologies bathed in tears, words of the enraged, sorrowful, and pained who write their thoughts. People take those feelings and transfer them to paper so now the world doesn't hurt quite so much. Words held every emotion, even the ones that the present language had no single word to describe.

He started in surprise when he felt her hand on his cheek. It was gentle and soothing; the tingle of her dormant power was so distracting. "You're scared." she murmured in amazement.

"Terrified." he admitted, closing his eyes and leaning slightly into her hand. "You know the saying, 'There's always a bigger fish'? I suppose in my case it's something along the lines of, 'There's always a bigger monster'."

She was quiet for a minute. Then she said, softly, "I don't think you're a monster…"

"Then you really don't know me very well. Good for me." He sighed heavily. "Don't listen to them, Raven. _Please_. No doubt these gods believe their true nature has been forgotten – that you would not know them…"

"You're sure it's one of them?" she asked softly.

He opened his eyes. "There are many stories about Time and his children. Some are even about Time and _her_ children. There is no way of knowing where the truth is. The children of the original Time could be any of the gods, but they _are gods_. That is one fact that does not alter – at least not in any of the stories I know, and I know quite a few. I may have been trapped in a book for a thousand years but I have been well aware of the changing times, if only through the literature."

She took her hand from his cheek but didn't try removing her shoulders from his own grip. "Is there any way I can stop these dreams then?"

"Yes, but you're not going to like it." he answered.

"Tell me anyway."

"There are a few methods we can try to prevent you from being receptive to external signals during sleep but they are going to require some time and practice. Until then, if you allow it, I can draw your sleeping mind into the pages of the book. I doubt any god would wish to touch a spell so similar to the one that eradicated their kinsmen. Even if they did I can protect you. I can give you restful sleep."

She looked a bit uncertain about this. Could he blame her? But she had to trust him in this.

He released her shoulders and took her hand in his. "Raven, please…" he murmured pleadingly. "I am not lying to you. Not about this. Let me protect you, _please_."

Her eyes flashed, suddenly suspicious and accusing. "Why?" she demanded. "Why do you want to protect me? Why do you care, Malchior? Why now?"

His grip on her hand tightened involuntarily. A paper body mimicking the reactions of flesh. Involuntary actions – things of emotion and instinct. Her words hurt, and the worst part was he had only himself to blame.

_All it takes is one mistake. One can build up a great wall but a single error in construction can bring down the entire structure. One small mistake can ruin a great deal. And you did not make a __**small**__ mistake._ he reminded himself.

_I KNOW! SHUT UP!-!-!_

What could he tell her? What could he say? The truth? What _was_ the truth? The truth was that the only scrap of affection he'd felt for her back then had been born of the fact that he'd not had the ability to speak to _anyone_ before she'd touched his book and a small amount of her power had seeped into his pages. The truth was that the only part of him which felt anything for that dark child was small and had only enough power to constantly berate him. The truth was that, when he realized he _did_ feel something a bit more real, it had scared him. The truth was he'd had a very, very long time to think and do little else. The truth was…he wanted her back. He wanted what he'd only pretended they had back then. He wanted her; he wanted her to be his. And dragons were territorial. You protected what was yours. You took care of what was yours. And you bloody well didn't let some bloody god dip their bloody fingers into it either!

He was scared. He was scared of what might be happening to her. Where had this strange power of hers come from? Why her?

He could tell her none of this.

"Think what you will of me, Raven, but I wouldn't let my worst enemy become a tool for the beings in Tartarus. And, despite our rather unfortunate past, I do not think of you as an enemy…not anymore…" he added softly. He was still holding her hand. "There are a few reasons you can trust me. For one—"

"I trust you, Malchior." she cut in, but her voice and her eyes were hard. "I just want to know _why_. I want to know what's different. What's different about now as oppose to before?" she demanded.

Ah…the very question he was trying hard _not_ to answer. He stared down at their hands. He was clutching hers tightly, but his physical strength was very limited. If she pulled away he wouldn't be able to stop her. He thought hard and swiftly, wondering what he could possibly tell her that she might be satisfied with.

_Tell her the truth._ he growled at himself.

_You do it if it's so easy!_ he snapped back, knowing full well he was dancing on the precipice of madness with such a demand.

_No one ever said it was **easy**. The right thing is never **easy**. Existence is not **easy**. But it would be less painful in the long run._

_Leave off._

"You forgave me…" he murmured softly, as if to himself. "_They_ forgave me. I…I've never had _friends_ before, Raven. Real friends, I mean. I have…pretended. I can pretend quite well. But the time we've been spending together…the way your friends enfolded me back on your space ship…this is not something I'm familiar with. It is not…_easy _for me. I want to protect you. I don't want anything to happen to you…or them…"

It was all true. He knew it when he said it. It just wasn't _the_ truth.

Raven's eyes softened and she took hold of his hand. "Alright…" she murmured. Relief washed over him like a gentle wave of cool, soothing water. "What do I need to do?"

(O)

**She was dreaming. She knew this, which was strange in and of itself. But the dream was more vivid than any she could remember having before.**

**She was laying down in waist-high grass with purple and yellow flowers bobbing over her as a light breeze made the foliage dance about. She could smell the crisp spring day, see the blue sky above her peppered with fluffy clouds that turned into shapes her mind made pictures of as she watched. There was some sort of grinding sound accompanied by a thumping that she felt more than she heard. She was quite comfortable, though. The thicket of grass did not have any bugs in this dreamscape and neither did any part of the flora prick her or make her skin itch. She felt like she could curl up and sleep here. There was so much grass beneath her that it made the ground very soft indeed. But she was already asleep, wasn't she? This was a dream; she knew this for a fact. She sat up.**

**The grass was right at eye-level so she had to stand. Then the grass she'd been laying down on sprang right back up as though she'd never been there. Yep, definitely a dream. She took a good look at herself. She was wearing exactly what she wore to bed: black bodysuit + skirt and nothing else. Alright, now that that was settled, time to find out what the grinding noise was.**

**It wasn't hard to find. An enormous black dragon whose head was more than twice as big as you were was very hard to miss. He was on all fours and was walking across the field along an invisible path that arched more and more with his progress. She flew up into the air but had to go pretty high to figure out what was going on. For some reason he was drawing a line in the ground, gouging the dirt out with his tail. Considering the size and strength of that tail, however, he wasn't drawing a line so much as digging a trench. But the line curved; he was drawing a circle. It was a _perfect_ circle.**

**A circle. A circle that was described by where the grass wasn't. It was big too; plenty big enough for a dragon and a half-demon (in theory). She flew down to him when he was finished and hovered in front of his…er…snout? What did one call a dragon's face?**

"**Malchior, what is this?" she asked him, gesturing to the trench.**

"**A warning." he answered in the layered voice of his dragon form. It was…more gentle than the first time she'd heard it. There was no mocking edge for a start. "It means, more or less, 'thus far and no further'."**

**She looked at it. "It's just a circle." She couldn't feel any magic. "Why bother? You don't think the sight of a big black dragon will be warning enough?"**

"**This is a bit more emphatic. You might say it's enthusiastic."**

"**It's just a circle." she repeated. She'd used circles before, plenty of times. But they had been…well, there had been more to them than this. There were usually special chalks, inks, powders, sands, and so on. Often runes were required.**

"**Do not ask too much about this, Raven. It is deep magic, magic that the world no longer needs to exist. I would not use it anywhere else. It can be…dangerous." he told her.**

"**It's just a circle." she stated for the third time.**

"**Please?"**

**She was really starting to hate it when he said 'please' like that. She couldn't seem to refuse him! Maybe it was because the plea clashed so much with the smug, arrogant confidence that flavored his air when he wasn't upset or being secretive. She could almost _feel_ how difficult it was for him to say the word. It meant that when he _did_ use it, it was that much more valuable.**

"**I'm guessing I need to stay inside?" she forwarded.**

"**Yes. You can sleep here and you will be untroubled." he told her.**

"**Sleep? I'm already asleep." she pointed out.**

"**Your body sleeps but you are not dreaming; not properly." He lifted a clawed four-fingered hand to her. She decided to take the offer and sat down in his palm. It had an oddly cool, smooth texture to it. But it still seemed warm. It was like…like living metal. He carried her towards the center of his circle, using three legs to walk, and began to settle down. He lowered her to the grass so she could just slide down and then, to her slight surprise, he curled up around her. For some reason he reminded her of a cat, though cats didn't usually have such long necks. He laid his head down next to her and a wing unfolded over them both, blocking all but a minimal amount of light. It was like being in a tent made of grass and dragon.**

**Malchior closed his eyes but Raven wasn't so sure she was comfortable with this. She had plenty of space to herself so it wasn't like she was being squeezed in any way. Still…**

"**Don't you have a human form?" she asked him.**

**Malchior's eyes (at least, the one that she could see on this side), shot open and went very round. "Um…yes…why do you ask?"**

"**Wouldn't it be more convenient?" she questioned.**

"**Maybe…but it would not be very intimidating."**

"**Your circle isn't warning enough?" She was sensing something a bit more personal in his reluctance.**

"**Well, perhaps, but I prefer this form."**

"**Why? Does your human form have a funny hair cut?"**

"**Yes!" he answered immediately. "Most definitely! I have an absolutely dreadful haircut, no sense of fashion, and I…have acne."**

"**_Acne_?"**

"**Yes, terrible acne. It is mighty embarrassing."**

"**You're well over a thousand years old and you have acne?"**

"**Tis adult acne. Quite common."**

"**Only in this day and age and mostly in this country. The problem is all the crap that's being put in American foods these days. Which, as I recall, you've never eaten."**

"**Er…dragon pox?"**

"**Now you're just being silly."**

**His glowing red eye looked pained. "I don't suppose there's anything at all I could say to make you drop this sudden fancy?"**

"**What's so bad about your human form that you don't want me seeing it?" she asked.**

**He sighed deeply and with some resignation. "Alright, listen. You know that magic changes, right? Old magics die out as new ways are discovered. Humans find a new way of doing things and then the old way is simply forgotten. Well, when it comes to magic that isn't _quite_ how things work. It's not just the users changing their methods; magic itself changes. And, back in our time, magic was a bit more…soft."**

"**Soft?"**

"**I'm not sure how else to describe it. Magic itself made less sense. Things bled into one another. It was a bit more fickle, a bit easier in some ways and harder in others. You know that this is, more or less, Rorel's diary or memoirs. What he wrote in here was a record of his own personal history. The words are his. They are his memories, his thoughts, and his emotions. They are _him_. And so when I was trapped within this tomb parts of what he was bled into me. We became…connected. I don't think he realized that he was suppose to use _blank_ paper for that spell of his." he mused.**

**Raven thought she could see the shape of where this was headed. "You're saying you look like _him_?" she all but demanded.**

"**You catch on swiftly. Yes. We're not duplicates, but my appearance mirrors his far too closely for my own liking. In truth, the only thing that is different is my coloring." he told her.**

"**Ah."**

"**I wasn't too happy when I found out."**

"**I can't imagine how you would be." she mused, sitting down so that the bit of standing grass within Malchior's self-circle obscured her view. Part of her wanted to press the issue but she knew he wouldn't give in. She curled up in her little space and closed her eyes. "Good night." she murmured.**

"**Good night, Raven." he returned softly.**

**It was incredibly easy to fall asleep in this dream.**

(8)

A/N: Malchior gets silly when he's nervous. XD

Look, kitty! I found the plot!  
Cat: Yeah…I don't care.  
T.T

By the way: I'm sorry if people take offense to my portrayal of the Greek and Roman gods, but I've personally read enough stories about these bastards to know that they're all bastards and, yes, even the so-called 'nice' gods of 'nice' things were bastards 'cause they didn't effing HELP much, did they? I'm _sorry_, but it is NOT OKAY to completely screw up a mortal's life and/or entire kingdom just because they make some heat-of-the-moment comment or other about how their kids are better than yours or they're prettier than you are or, worse, they happen to be the victim of something another god did (lay off the poor girls, Hera, it's not like they can say no to a god! It's your so-called husband you should be throttling!)! You couldn't win with these so-called _people_, either! Pleasing one god meant you were _dis_pleasing others and don't even get me STARTED on Zeus (cheating lying bastard man-whore _gripe gripe gripe _ate his first wife then gets mad at people for cannibalism effing bastard hypocrite _grumble grumble grumble _no right to judge anybody_ gripe gripe gripe_…). Being a beautiful woman was pretty much a death sentence in these stories. You might as well slit your own throat rather than put the gods to the trouble. I'd be okay. I'm sure the horns, tail, and fangs would put off even Zeus. Also, draconic morning breath can be cataclysmic – particularly when I forget the mouthwash. :D Heheheh.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Pink elephants and their soap bubbles.

Just to let everyone know: I am having a hard time keeping up with a schedule of the three updates a week. I'm starting to fall behind on my drafts and if I get to the point where I'm stressing myself out about getting things written and edited as quickly as possible then the quality is going to go down. I'd also like a bit of time to finally pull out Diablo III and start playing. So from now on updates will be Friday and Sunday and I will only be updating during the week if I am actually able to get ahead. Sorry about this! But it will also give me time to actually write my crack-drabble companion story, which I have decided will be called 'Squares' since it sounds a bit closer to 'Circles' than 'Triangles' would have. I will try to have that one written and ready to be posted on Friday with the next chapter of Circles! Those bathrooms won't know what hit them :D.

PS: Taking a short trip up north for Memorial Day so I'll be a bit late responding to reviews since FF has yet to release any smartphone apps and signing in on a phone is a pain in the butt.


	11. Can't Return

A/N: Okay, so maybe I was a bit harsh about the whole thing with the polytheistic gods in the last chapter's A/N. I do have reasons, but a philosophical debate is not the point of this fanfic. The point of this fanfic is poking out of a circle. BWAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-!

In all seriousness I am aware that Prometheus didn't actually set people on fire in the original legends. This is called artistic license (is it possible for that to be revoked? I sure hope not or I'm in trouble…) and fanfiction which, as we all know, is COMPLETELY accurate in EVERYTHING. :D

Sorry for not getting anything written in Squares. I'm still trying to get caught up but it's Friday so maybe I'll be able to get a chapter done by tomorrow!

(8)

_She was not a beautiful woman; her eyes were cold and her smile was cruel. But her touch was electric and in her steady gaze there was no fear. There was not even the hint of some brave façade hiding that fear and the lack was what drew me inexorably to her. It amazed me, the way I could touch her hand – however lightly – and feel only the power coursing through her veins. My own mind silent in the screams that accompanied any other touch. All the other ladies I could only bow to, yet her hand I took and I kissed. Was this what it was to touch a sorceress with no fear?_

_But despite the obvious preference and deference I showed her, despite the attention I gave her that the other courtly ladies all but begged for, despite my honest desire and wish to know her, she rejected me at every turn. She demanded that I take my needs elsewhere, to find some other maiden to conquer. At the time I did not understand what she meant. I learned swiftly enough._

_The world is cold and cruel to everyone. In order to survive one must become cold and cruel in return. And yet I refused to believe this. Sometimes I wonder if something had been clinging to me; holding on; desperate that I would not fall into the bitterness of sorrow and the fears of existence. I did not wish to be one of the cold ones._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 11 – Can't Return**

It occurred to Raven that, while Malchior had been fully aware of the world's changes and had absorbed language, colloquialisms, culture, and a lot of the current events through the pages of written records, the same could _not_ be said for Rorek. What he had was the Gift of Tongues and, while it seemed a bit more helpful than Starfire's lip-language method, it still had some…issues.

"Road. That is a _road_. Okay? And not the kind you walk on." she explained slowly.

"We should put him in Nightwing's old costume and tell him to only walk in front of intersections." Cyborg suggested.

"_Haha_."

"I really am very sorry!" Rorek exclaimed, his eyes wide. "It will not happen again! I swear!"

"'S all cool, dude. It's gonna take you a while to get use to this time." Cyborg said. "And what better way to do it than with pizza?-!"

Fortunately nothing more exciting happened on the way and they sat down at their usual table while Beast Boy attempted to describe (without reference to something so trivial as _the ingredients_) the amazing awesomeness of pizza. Rorek wasn't quite getting it. Apparently 'pizza' was also something that being ignorant of wouldn't cause a language barrier. Raven was still trying to piece together how come things like a 'bathroom', 'sofa', 'coffee maker' and, 'refrigerator' _would_ cause said language barrier when things like 'waffles', 'pizza', 'fire hydrant', and 'hobnailed boots' wouldn't. Maybe there was a fine line between knowing all the words of a language and being omniscient about everything everyone said. Then, in the confusion of trying to decide what would be too much knowledge and what is necessary, said line got all squiggly.

"But, how is it cooked? What is it made of?" Rorek asked for what had to be the third time already. This time, though, he managed to get his question in during a pause where Beast Boy was trying to come up with new descriptions. This was because Raven was giving him a look that suggested he'd better stop repeating himself else she decide to become an unofficial member of the adjective police.

"Well, pizza crust, pizza sauce, cheese, and anything else you wanna put on it!" Beast Boy answered.

"Such as…?" Rorek pressed.

"Um, well, tofu, peppers, olives, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, pineapple, spi—"

"_Mushrooms_?" Rorek asked in alarm. "You eat _mushrooms_? But they are poisonous!"

"Not all kinds of mushroom!" Beast Boy told him swiftly. "The kind they use on pizza is fine. Raven eats it all the time." he assured him. "We'll just order a bunch of everything and you can try it all."

"Thank you, Beast Man. But I think I will pass on the mushrooms, at least." Rorek said, looking just a bit ill.

"YES! THANK YOU!-!-!"

Rorek started and leaned away from the excitable youth, his eyes wide and alarmed. "I beg your pardon?"

"I keep trying to get everyone to call me Beast Man instead of Beast _Boy_ but you're the first one who's actually doing it without having to go back and correct yourself every other time! Yay!" Beast Boy cheered.

"You gotta understand: He's been 'Beast Boy' to us for _years_. It's a hard habit to change." Cyborg explained.

"Indeed…" Rorek mused.

"Hey, come to think of it, did you say you use to be called something else, Rorek?" Beast Boy asked.

"Ah, yes. Originally I was Rorel. But I suppose I do not mind Rorek so much. It has rather grown on me. I just have to keep telling myself that no one in this time knows just how much the single altered letter changes its meaning in the Draconic tongue…except, perhaps, for Lady Raven." Who obviously hadn't been schooling her features nearly as well as she thought she was. Curse these new explorations into the emotion that was humor; she was losing her poker face. "Wonderful…" he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Sorry…it's not that bad." she assured him. "Don't worry; to the general majority of the world, 'Rorek' is just a name and it doesn't mean anything." she said.

"Except apparently it does, and now I'm curious." Cyborg said, smirking at Rorek.

Rorek sighed. His manor seemed to suggest that he had decided not to prolong his suffering and was going to get the worst over with. "The word 'Ro' is Draconic for 'balance'." he began. "The word 'Rek' is Draconic for 'she', as in 'she-wolf' or 'she is here'."

"So…it's a girl's name?" Cyborg asked.

"Alas, if only it were so simple. No. Draconic is a very complicated and contextual language. If it simply meant 'she is balanced', that would not be so bad. But the proper translation of the word 'rorek' would, in your language, be something akin to…a dancer of the female persuasion." he explained.

Which was only _sort_ of true. There was, in fact, a single word in the modern language and culture that could describe the word 'rorek' only too well. They hadn't existed in Rorek's time – obviously – but something equivalent must have been around. Raven wasn't about to say the word aloud, though. Especially not when she kept picturing Rorek in a bright pink tutu with white tights and his long white hair up in a bun. It was taking enough will-power as it was to keep herself from giggling in a very out-of-character-for-the-gloomy-persona way. Humor was getting way too much power these days. Maybe she should lay off a bit.

"And you thought you had it bad being stuck with 'Boy'." Cyborg snickered.

"You want us to start calling you 'Rorel', then?" asked Beast Boy in a pointedly polite tone. Raven suspected – actually she _knew_ – that if they hadn't just been talking about his old name, he'd be laughing his head off at the revelation of Rorek's new one.

"In fact I do not mind so much. Draconic is a dead language and perhaps a new name for a new life would be suitable. I shall stick with 'Rorek' and simply think of it as a name with no true meaning." Rorek answered.

"You got it!" Beast Boy said.

"Unfortunately now that we know all that the first thing that will be popping into our heads when we get mad and need something to shout at you is going to be 'dancing queen'." Cyborg informed him.

Rorek chuckled. "My friend, compared to some of the things I've been called, I would consider 'dancing queen' to be very mild indeed." he told them comfortably.

"Friend Rorek, I am wondering: Why is it that you have, or had, a Draconic name?" Starfire asked.

"Ah, well, that is a bit of a story. You see, when I first arrived in the land of Nahl I had lost my memory. All of it. I knew nothing of myself or my past. All I had was the Gift of Tongues, and at the time I did not realize that was what it was. The first language I encountered was the language of the Dov – the dragons. And as their words filled my head I found a pair that felt somewhat comfortable and made a name of them, believing that it was my own language and I was simply remembering it." he explained.

_Hang on,_ Raven thought, _I remember that part. Didn't he get his name from the green dragon in that tower? The one that took him in and fed him? Huh, that must have been one of the parts Malchior edited._

"Dude! You lost your memory? That's harsh." Beast Boy said.

"Oh I gained plenty more to replace what I lost."

"How did you come across the dragon's language?" Nightwing asked curiously.

"You must understand that dragons were quite common in the land of Nahl. In fact, the word 'Nahl' is a draconic word that means 'Life'. In those days the dragon kind, or the 'Dov', as they call themselves, lived quite harmoniously with humans. Well, as harmoniously as a race can when you are many times bigger, stronger, and more magically potent." he added in an undertone. "Anyway, all of their literature – histories, poems, stories, and so on – were carved into stone structures with their claws. In my very earliest memories I found a dragon's tower that was covered in Draconic writing." he told them.

"Really? What did it say?" Beast Boy asked.

"It was a passage of scripture. I don't remember all of it, but I believe it was a warning to those in power; saying that there is a balance which must be respected. That is actually what my name means and where it came from. 'Balance of Dominion', or 'Balanced Power'. Though I wasn't entirely aware of this at the time." he answered.

"_Scripture_?" Cyborg asked incredulously. "Dragons had a religion?"

"Oh yes. They worshiped a being called 'Iiam Bormah'."

"'I am boring'?" was Beast Boy's humorous attempt at a translation. Raven wanted to smack him. Hard. And she was pretty sure she wasn't the only one either. Was it her imagination or had Rorek's eye twitched?

"Ee-ahm. Bor-mah." Rorek pronounced slowly and pointedly.

"Got it!" Beast Boy said swiftly and nervously.

They were about to actually order when, at that precise moment, certain articles of each other's clothing (or body as might be the case) began to flash. "Aw _man_." Cyborg groaned.

"Er, what does that mean?" Rorek asked.

"Trouble." Nightwing answered, pulling out his communicator. "This'll have to wait. Can you get back to the tower yourself?" he asked Rorek.

"Perhaps I could assist." Rorek offered.

"I won't say no." Nightwing said with a grin.

"But if he fights then there won't be enough cans of butt-whoop left for us to open!" Cyborg complained.

"Er…translation?" Rorek requested, turning desperate eyes to Raven.

"If you come along there'll be nothing for us to do. In other words: You're too powerful and the fight will be boring." she explained.

"Ah. Perhaps I should tie one hand behind my back, then?" he offered.

"We're not doing this for _fun_." Nightwing snapped irritably, standing up. "Rorek, do you mind taking orders from a magically-impaired human?" he asked.

"Sir, if a sorceress such as Lady Raven follows your command then who am I to deny your right to leadership?" Rorek asked. He stood up and bowed to Nightwing. "I shall follow your direction."

"Then let's get going."

(O)

"This is…not so easy in such…short distances or…serious situations…My Lady!" Rorek exclaimed as he and Raven dodged blasts from Dr. Light's gloves. Rorek was concentrating so much on controlling his flight that he had little thought left for actual attack. Unfortunately the battleground was currently covered by some strange yellow glow that had already paralyzed Cyborg and so stepping on it would be a _very_ bad idea. It also didn't help that Rorek's spellfire force fields were only partially effective against the beams. Clearly he wasn't use to fighting against non-magic weaponry that didn't involve metal edges or blunt instruments.

"Yes, well, if it was then everyone could do it." Raven replied, throwing up a shield that _did_ have non-magical weaponry in mind. It didn't last. Dr. Light's beam broke through and hit her square in the chest, throwing her onto another roof entirely.

"Lady Raven?" Rorek called, sounding more confused than worried.

Nightwing, riding on Beast Boy's pterodactyl form, threw several bladed boomerangs shaped like black birds with blue 'feathers' at the Dr's machine, but an invisible force field shot up around it and stopped the blades. Dr. Light laughed.

"Are you…alright?" Rorek asked Raven, flying over to where she was pealing herself up from a roof that some absolute _genius_ decided to give a _gravel texture_ to.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me! Help the others!" she snapped at him.

"But why—" he began, but she was off. She soared back after Light, who had just shot Starfire off onto another building. Some minor property damage was the unfortunate result of this.

"Fools! No one can defeat the master of light! And with the advanced lumen power of all these LED bulbs I now have ten times the power of the incandescent bulbs even if they are bloody expensive!" Dr. Light paused. "Hang on, why did I just comment on the price? I'm stealing them!"

"Not so fast, Evil-Doer!" cried out a mysteriously new mysterious voice shouting from the mysterious, er, air. Which wasn't exactly all that mysterious since it was, in fact, broad daylight.

There was a collective groan.

"Looks like someone's taking a nap…" Raven muttered.

"Pardon?" asked Rorek, catching up to her.

The Great Can't landed on the glowing roof and struck a pose. "Tremble in fear, blackard! For I am the Great and Mighty Can't! I mean, Me! Great and Mighty Me! That's right! And I shall stop you in the name of…um…excellent hairstyles! Of which you have none!"

"Okay! No fair! How come _he's_ not paralyzed!" Cyborg, who only had the use of his head, demanded. "This is not cool man!"

"Oh, am I suppose to be paralyzed? I was wondering what the glowing stuff was suppose to be. I am so sorry! Er, hang on, I mean, AH HA! Your evil magic-er-I mean, science! Yes, this isn't magic at all, right. Your evil science has no effect on me! Now what are you going to do? WHOA MAN!" The Great Can't scrambled madly out of the way of one of Dr. Light's blaster beams. "Ha! Missed me! AAAAAAH!" he screamed, this time diving for the ground when the next burst came after him. "Ha! Missed me again!" he declared, standing up. He was…glowing bright yellow.

"What? What _are_ you?-!" Dr. Light demanded.

"Um…Radioactive Man maybe?"

"No one's brighter than Dr. Light! OW!" the Dr. exclaimed when Nightwing caught him across the back of the head with another boomerang. Starfire then started blasting him with her starbolts and he did a sort of jig to dodge them. A blast of violet spellfire managed to hit him and, for a moment, he tensed. When it appeared that nothing had happened he let out another bark of laughter. "Not so great, are you?-! You see? No one can defeat the power of LED!-!-!"

Raven and Rorek managed to converge on the machine in the confusion.

"I still do not understand how these 'machines' function without any magic. It makes no sense to me."

"A thousand years is a long time to be stuck in a book. Magic sort of…went out of style."

"My spellfire is doing nothing against this force field."

"I think I can make a hole."

"You know more about this than I do, M'Lady. Er…why is the Dr. Light running around and screaming?"

"AAAAAAAAH!-!-! GET THEM OFF ME!-!-! GET THEM OFF ME!-!-!"

"WAAAAA!", "MOMMY!", "AH WAN MA MOMMEH!", "MOMMYYYY!", "MA-MAAAA!-!-!", "AH WAN MAH MOMMEH!"

"Um…because his light bulbs appear to be crying for their mothers."

"I take it this is not a normal occurrence?"

"_No_."

They were also shooting out light blasts randomly from all over the Dr.'s suit which, in a way, was a lot worse than the Dr. being in control. Now there was no telling where a blast of light would go or when they would blast. And that meant Cyborg was in a very precarious situation. Raven flew over to him, staying several feet above the ground, and created a shield that managed to block these less-focused blasts.

"You must not be a very good father if your kids keep crying for mother. Oh crap!" The Great Can't managed to dodge two blasts but the third one caught him in the leg and flipped him right over so his opera cloak landed over his head.

"Get rid of the machine!" Raven exclaimed at Rorek.

"My Lady, I do not know what to do!"

"MOMMEEEEEEH!"

"HELP ME!-!-! HELP ME PLEASE!-!-! I SWEAR I'LL NEVER USE LED AGAIN!-!-!"

"What about that ice thing you used?" Raven demanded, flinching when one of the light blasts nearly got through.

"Will that work?"

"Would it hurt?-!" she snapped.

"It might hurt the machine!"

Pause…

"You're boyfriend's a real genius, Rae." Cyborg said, his voice muffled from anyone else's hearing by the general chaos of the present situation.

"Cyborg, I will hack into your files and replace all your mp3s with Lacuna Coil."

"Backing off now."

"Rorek, I am going to give you another two seconds to think about what you just said!" she shouted.

"**Iiss**!"

"And one second to spare. Good job!"

The machine box was wrapped in a blast of ice that crystallized the moist air around it and deadened the energy that it was generating. The paralyzing glow disappeared, freeing Cyborg, and Dr. Light's suit stopped throwing light blasts. Unfortunately…

"MOMMY!-!-!", "AH WAN MAH MOMMEH!-!-!", "WAAAAAAAH!-!-!", "MA-MA!-!-!"

Yeah…

Dr. Light had collapsed and was sobbing himself. Raven decided that she would draw the line if _he_ started shouting for his mother too. Fortunately this was something that Rorek _could_ deal with and quite easily. He walked over to the Dr. and waved a hand. With a spluttering of violet sparks, the light bulbs stopped shouting with mouths they weren't really suppose to have and became just light bulbs again. Dr. Light still looked plenty shaken and didn't offer up any kind of resistance when the police arrived to cart him away.

Now they just had The Great Can't to deal with.

"Yes, we have him right here." Raven told Margaret over her communicator. "Does he normally take naps during the day?" she asked. She blinked. "_How_ much soda? I thought you didn't buy it. Wha—_Abby_? Why would she—alright, so…caffeine crash? How long was he awake? _Four days_?-! What did she buy him, Monster?-! Okay, okay, so how long until he wakes up? Oh great, and does he ever…you know…go back _without_ waking up? Great…yeah, keep trying. _Really_ keep trying. Yeah, it's worse this time. He's sleep-_heroing_ now."

The next part could be heard by everyone.

"OH MY GOD! I AM _SO SORRY_!"

"The situation is under control now…we think. Alright, I'll let you go. We'll…think of something." she said, and she hung up.

The Great Can't, bright and oblivious, was beaming happily at the Titans. "Well? How was that? Have I proved myself a worthy ally?" he asked eagerly.

Nightwing buried his face in his hands, Starfire's attempt at a smile was very awkward, Beast Boy cringed, and Cyborg just stared at him blankly. Raven was glaring.

"No."

To everyone's surprise, it was Rorek who stepped in. He walked up to The Great Can't whose eyes went very wide. The wizard stared sternly down at the shorter man.

"You are a disruptive enemy but a dangerous ally. You do not use your power, _it_ is using _you_. You have no control, you do not decide what your spells do, and what is worse your bungling is contagious! You are—_why are you touching my hair_?" he demanded, freezing up.

"I can't help it! You have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen! Look at how it glitters in the sunlight. It's so—"

They didn't see the look that Rorek turned upon The Great Can't, but the words he spoke next gave them some idea. "Vohaalvut diiom." he snarled.

There was no way The Great Can't could have understood the words, but he understood the tone alright. Eyes wide and terrified, his hands released Rorek's snow white locks and he backed away carefully.

"Translation?" Cyborg asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"'Don't touch the hair'." Raven answered.

Rorek looked incredibly intimidating in his seething anger as he loomed over The Great Can't. "_Why_ are you doing this?" he demanded. "If you honestly believe you are in any way capable simply because of your power then I have information for you: Power is _useless_ without focus and control, of which you have none!" he exclaimed.

"Miss Tia told me to help…" The Great Can't whimpered.

"'Tia'? Ah, I see. Your delusion?" Rorek ground out.

The Great Can't's eyes went wide. "Delusion? Hey! Just because I only ever see her in my dreams that doesn't mean she's not real!" he exclaimed. Then he brightened suddenly. "That reminds me! She wanted me to tell Miss Raven something. Two somethings, actually. She says, 'It's your brother', and 'Do you know where the tea is?'" He beamed proudly.

Rorek slowly turned to look at Raven. "You have a sibling?" he asked.

"Nope."

"I rest my case."

"So…am I in? Can I be a Teen Titan now?-!" The Great Can't asked eagerly.

Pause.

"I have a very pressing need to consume alcohol. Lots of it." Rorek sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

"There's sort of an age limit on alcohol consumption these days." Nightwing told him.

"One-thousand is under-age?" Raven asked.

"Good point."

"You have _amazing_ eyeliner, by the way." The Oblivious Can't told Rorek. Suddenly Raven wondered if Can't had his eyes made up behind the mask. She decided that, yeah, he probably did.

"Eyeliner?" Rorek turned to Raven for a translation. Apparently that was another word the Gift of Tongues didn't have for him.

"Your, um, eyelashes are pretty thick. They're also black even though the rest of your hair is white. So he thinks it's makeup." she explained.

"That's natural?-!" Can't exclaimed, mask-covered eyes wide and almost worshipful. (Amazing how much expression one could get out of mask-eyes, right Nightwing?)

"_Lots_ of alcohol…" Rorek mumbled.

"So, no pizza today?" Beast Boy asked.

"He'll have to come with us. We're stuck with him until Eric's caffeine crash wares off." Raven said.

Nightwing sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. This got him the immediate attention of Can't. "We might as well…"

(O)

Rorek had eaten in front of them before, but the Titans weren't exactly in the habit of watching one another eat when they could possibly help it and someone (coughBeastBoycough) wasn't making a big show of it. That was probably why Raven was only just noticing that he didn't take his scarf off even to eat. And now that she was actually watching she realized that, despite this, the food was disappearing. He was _eating with magic_ so he needn't remove his scarf.

Now she was curious. What was he hiding under there that he'd go to such lengths to keep it hidden?

_Acne maybe?_ she thought. And then, somewhere in Nevermore, a pink-loving part of her burst out into a fit of giggles that she pretended wasn't hers.

Somehow Raven got stuck sitting next to Can't, who was energetically talking about anything and everything that came to mind. He was being cheerfully reciprocated by Starfire. Raven wondered if either of them were actually listening to the other.

"Who does this guy remind you of?" Cyborg asked her from her other side.

"A certain blue-eyed metal ball. Only twice as annoying." she answered immediately.

"Thank you. Glad I'm not the only one."

Rorek seemed to be enjoying his pizza, though she noticed he flinched slightly when she bit into her slice of mushroom. She couldn't really blame him. She was, technically, eating a fungus. There were certain types of said fungus that could, indeed, kill you if you so much as inhaled too many spores. Obviously taking a bite would be outright suicide.

And then there was the kind that caused you to see fairies. The way Rorek looked at her made her wonder whether he was expecting her to drop dead or start waving her arms about in an attempt to ward off the pink elephants and their soap bubbles.

Eventually (FINALLY!) The Great Can't disappeared. It happened right in front of the waitress, but she didn't even bat an eye. This _was_ Jump City and they _were_ superheroes. Freaking out about something that caused the Teen Titans to let out sighs of relief would have been incredibly silly.

"I'm going to run by Abby's. I'll met you all back at the tower." Raven said, standing up.

"Who is Abby?" Rorek asked curiously.

"She owns a book store down in Old Town that I visit a lot." she answered.

"Book store? A shop specifically for books alone? May I accompany you?" he asked eagerly.

"If you want to." she answered, pointedly ignoring Cyborg's attempt to catch her eye. She took off into the air and Rorek followed after on his white spellfire disk.

"I…wish to apologize for my…what would you call it?" he began when they were well out of earshot of any pedestrians.

"Goof?" she offered.

"As good a word as any, I suppose."

"Don't worry about it. We've all been there." she told him. "We'll tease you about it for a while and then someone else – usually Beast Boy – will do something and the teasing will be redirected. Thinking clearly in high-pressure situations like that is not easy and requires practice."

"I imagine Sir Nightwing would not have made such a mistake." Rorek mused.

"Nightwing has the right kind of mind and gained the right kind of training for what we do. Leaders like him are rare and so potent that they don't require magic or super powers to be formidable." she explained.

"You seem to admire him."

"We've been through a lot together. Down here." she said, pointing before she began to descend. When their feet touched the ground Rorek drew up beside her.

"May I ask you something, My Lady? There is something I am having trouble understanding." he said.

"Alright."

"I had great difficulty in the battle against the Dr. Light. I like to think that it was largely due to my inexpert ability to fly, but I know that much of it was my ignorance in the matter of technology. You, on the other hand, have no such handicaps. Why, then, do you hold back? This Dr. Light should have posed no great threat to you at all and yet we had difficulty. I might think this technology is very difficult to combat with magic, but I could tell you were not using near the power you unleashed upon me and I cannot understand what reason you might have. That power is incredible but I know you can control it; I saw that much during our battle. Is it because you do not wish your friends to feel inadequate?" he asked.

Raven drew her hood up over her head and turned away. "It's complicated." she told him simply, walking towards a freshly-painted lamp post.

"I see." he said, though she could feel how much he wanted to press the issue and she appreciated that he didn't. This definitely wasn't something she liked to talk about.

"Hi Raven!" Abby sang out happily when Raven entered the book store.

"The new paint looks great, Abby. Your father—" she stopped suddenly and stared.

"Thanks! He worked really hard on it. We were kinda worried the rust was too much and it'd have to be rebuilt but nope!"

"Abby, is…that makeup? What happened to your hair?" Raven asked, eyes wide. "It looks _amazing_."

And it did. Instead of the usual tight ponytail that Abby used to keep her wild curls out of her face she had let it down. It also wasn't frizzy or dull like usual but sleek, bright, glossy, and with artfully cascading curls that framed her face. It'd obviously been trimmed and layered and she had one side of it up in a clasp that had a glittery green rose on it to bring out her eyes. She was still wearing a big comfy sweater but suddenly she looked like a runaway model rather than a frumpy bookshop girl. She wasn't wearing a _lot_ of makeup, certainly not enough to cover her freckles, but there was just the right amount of eye shadow and her lips were very glossy. Oh she'd never been _ugly_; Raven had always known she was quite cute in her way. But now she was absolutely adorable.

Abby blushed bright red and smiled shyly. "Um…Eric happened." she admitted.

"_Eric_?" Raven asked incredulously. "You…well wow, he did a good job but, well, you _have_ seen Margaret, right? I wouldn't have let him anywhere near my hair with just Margaret as an example."

"Yeah I thought that at first too. But turns out Margaret likes the, um, craziness." Abby said, waving a hand about her head in an attempt to somehow describe the chaos of bows, clasps, braids, ponytails, and loops that was Margaret's head. "She requests it."

"Oh…So…you and Eric are…?"

"So who's your friend?" Abby cut in swiftly. Was it her imagination or was Abby not sing-songing quite as much?

"This is Rorek." Raven answered. "He's an ancient wizard who was trapped in a book for a thousand years and recently managed to free himself. He's staying with us at the tower for now." she explained. Rorek looked at her in some surprise.

"Cool!" Abby said. "Welcome to the future, Rorek!"

Now it was Abby's turn to get a look of surprise. "This sort of thing happens often?" he asked weakly.

"No, but weirder stuff does. You deal with it by pretending there's something called 'normal' but not letting the stuff you call 'abnormal' bother you." Abby explained. "I've got some social studies textbooks that might help you get use to the future. Want me to go grab them?"

"I would much appreciate them, but I do not yet have any of this present time's currency. I shall, however, return for them when I do. Unless you are able to accept coins that do not have your own ruler's face upon them?" he questioned.

Abby giggled. "Sure! I could sell them as antiquities." she told him. He produced a handful of gold and silver coins and offered them to her. She took one of the silver and examined it. "How come it has the face of a dragon on it? Did dragons rule your country a thousand years ago?"

"If you look upon the other side you will see the face of King Hrunting. The face you see there is the face of the dragons' High Priest, who you might say was also their ruler. In the land of Nahl, dragons and humans coexisted for a very long time." he explained.

Abby's eyes went wide. "That's _amazing_! You should write some books about all that. I know plenty of people who'd be avid readers." she told him. "And one of them will probably give me any price I ask for this coin – especially when I tell her the dragon was a ruler. I'll go get those books for you."

(O)

He wasn't sleeping, not really. The dreamscape he had created for himself within the book was only real for a given value of reality. Only people with bodies could truly sleep. But he could go dormant, and he could dream. It was simply that the dreams he had within this dream were pale and too easily broken by the smallest thing; the shifting of Raven's body as she turned in her sleep, a particularly heavy sigh, a cough, or a small murmur escaping from whatever true dream she was having. When she laid his book on her bedside table he was acutely aware of everything.

Not that he was complaining.

He let her believe that she needed to keep the book close for him to draw her sleeping mind into this dreamscape. She didn't. Mere distance was not an object for magic like this. Neither were walls or extra dimensions. All he needed was her permission and, until she revoked that permission, he could bring her here whenever and wherever she slept. But she didn't need to know that. He had her sleeping mind under his wing and her sleeping body next to him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so…content; so comfortable; so…peaceful.

There was only one thing that could ruin this and it had just slipped through the door.

"Mahkriiod?" an all-too familiar voice whispered. "Are you in here?"

(8)

A/N: BWAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-! A PROPER CLIFHANGER!-!-! XD

Aren't cha glad I'm updating Sunday? :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
There's your bed, closet, dresser, desk, bathroom, window, and…bunny?

Don't you love how all my 'next chapter' hints don't actually tell you much of anything about the next chapter at all?

PS: Just want to remind everyone that reviews are welcome, especially those that point out spelling errors. Thanks!


	12. Touch

A/N: This little 'hits' counting feature of FF is rather nifty. It wasn't around back when I was writing Spellbinder…_sweet Maartuz why are people still reading Spellbinder?-?-?_

(8)

_I am not sure whether I kissed her or she kissed me. One way or the other it happened and I have no words to describe how it felt. For so long I had wanted the one woman in King Yord's court who denied me at every turn. Now she was in my arms, her hands in my hair, the taste of her lips on my tongue. It was the first time I had ever kissed a woman. She was the only person I could touch; the only woman I could possibly engage with in such intimate contact. Yet my inexperience was obvious to her and she drew away from me. She called me an innocent and I could not understand this. None of her words made sense to me and I could not comprehend the reasons she gave for rejecting me once again._

_But I refused to give up. My obsession was a roaring fire in my mind and my heart. I was rewarded for my efforts. Twice more she allowed me to kiss her, though both times she turned from me, saying it had been a mistake. Then one day she confronted me, demanded to know why it was she whom I constantly pursued. I told her. And then it was her turn to be confused. We danced like this for a long time, dragging the pain out. Part of me knew I would never truly have what I wanted; not from her. But I just did not wish to listen._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 12 – Touch**

"It's me." he whispered.

"Oh really? Are you sure about that? Think hard for a minute. Oh, and, it's 'Malchior' now. Unlike you, my new name doesn't mean something embarrassing in the Draconic tongue."

"Will you be quiet? I could care less about my new name's awkward letter – I've adapted to it regardless. Where are you?"

"You do realize that all I have to do is shout and, in the general confusion of just waking up coupled with the indignation of finding you in her room in the middle of the night, Raven will probably set your hair on fire at my suggestion." Despite this declaration, however, Malchior realized he was lowering his voice. He cursed himself inwardly.

"Do you mind? I _am_ trying to help you. Where are you?" Rorel (Rorek now, apparently) asked, searching the bookshelves with his eyes.

"Help? Really? Well in that case you can _leave_." the dragon snarled.

"Hard as it may be for you to believe, I originally sought you out to set you free."

"With a tether, I assume?" Rorek's silence was answer enough. "Well, you would be foolish to do otherwise. Thank you but _no_ thank you. If the choice is between you and Raven then I'd much rather stay with the beautiful sorceress."

"Mahkrii…Malchior…"

"_Go away_."

"Alright, you are angry – as usual. Would it be too much to ask what I did _this_ time?" he asked in a voice of long-suffering.

"You're existing. Stop it."

"And you're acting like a child." Rorek stated, glaring at the bookshelves.

They both froze into silence when Raven took a particularly deep breath in her sleep and shifted slightly. Malchior knew she wasn't waking up. She was sleeping too deeply. But at least the movement gave him some time to think.

"Well you don't exactly bring out the best in me." he growled. "I would really be quite happy if you just disappeared somewhere off the face of the earth. Want to visit the stars? The technology of this present time allows such a feat."

There was a pause.

"You know, it occurs to me to question why you are able to speak up like this in the first place."

"You're _just now_ wondering about that?"

"You have more contact with Lady Raven than she allows me to believe, don't you?" the other deduced.

"The Titans all think you're here to destroy me once and for all. They're protecting me from you. Would _you_ like to tell them why they needn't?" Malchior dared.

"They're protecting you?" Rorek was, naturally, shocked. "How much of our story do they know? How much has Lady Raven read?"

"Only a very heavily edited version, and only half of it at that. The brave wizard Rorek rides out on an adventure to defeat the dread dragon Malchior – though in the first version I switched the names. I got caught in the lie, however, and they found out I was actually the dragon rather than the wizard. Naturally they're not about to trust me fully but…"

"They were befriending you, weren't they?"

"They seem to do that a lot."

"And you are angry at me because my presence is keeping you locked in here where you cannot openly interact with them."

"Are you smiling? You're smiling aren't you? Stop that right now you smug prick."

"Friends, Malchior? You've changed."

"Go play in traffic, pretty boy. Take a blindfold with you while you're at it."

"Tell me something: Is that the only reason you hate my being here? Because you think I am stealing away your friends? Or is there something else?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"This is about Lady Raven as well, isn't it? You think I—"

"Think? _Think_? I don't _think_ anything. I _know_." Malchior snarled. "She's everything you've ever wanted in a woman, isn't she? Power, beauty, intelligence, strength, fearlessness, loyalty; but I was here _first_. She's _mine_."

"You know that's not how this works."

"I don't care. Back off."

"Mmmm, no. No I don't think I will." Rorek responded pleasantly. Was he _laughing_? Did he think this was _funny_?-!

"Prick."

"Bastard."

"Pretty boy."

"Is that _really_ an insult?"

Raven grunted. Daanik, they were being too loud. She was starting to wake up.

"You'd better leave." Malchior muttered. "Or you could stay and try explaining why you're here – with your head on fire if I have any say in the matter."

Rorek slipped back out of the room as swiftly and softly as he could without another word.

Raven woke slowly so her eyes opened in the dreamscape first. She sat up.

"Bad dream?" he asked her softly.

"I thought I heard…was someone—is someone in my room?" she asked.

"No, not that I've been aware." he lied.

"Are you sure?"

"Nope! Actually I lied. It was Rorek and he was going through your socks. I suggest a fitting punishment would be setting his hair on fire." he answered cheerfully.

A pair of blue-violet eyes leered at him just over the grass. "Very funny. Goodnight." and she laid back down.

"Goodnight."

(O)

"Alright man, there's your bed, closet, dresser, desk, bathroom, window, and…bunny. Okay I guess we missed something."

"Really? I thought it was a welcoming present. She certainly appears to have left me one."

"IT'S ALIVE!-?-!"

"Alright, we are on an island in the middle of a river right next to the ocean. How is it the two of you can horde so much that suddenly there's a rabbit here and no one noticed?-!" Nightwing demanded.

"She appears well-fed. What exactly were you hording in these rooms?"

"Um…" Beast Boy gave Rorek a big smile but didn't comment.

Setting aside the small furry thing, it was quite a serviceable room. He had not expected to be given much in the way of furniture. In truth he would have been happy with a bed and nothing more. It wasn't as though he had come to this new time with_ nothing_ after all.

"Heeeeere bunny, bunny, bunny, come on. We're not gonna hurt cha."

"Speak for yourself, yo! I wanna know how that thing got past my security system!"

"Just to let you know," Nightwing began, turning to Rorek, "We've received word from Wayne Enterprises and they are deeding ownership of the grimoire to Raven."

"Thank you, Sir Nightwing. That is very comforting." he answered.

"Got i—ouch! Okay, don't got it! Cyborg!"

"I got it, I got it, I—how'd it do that?-!"

"Apparently after finding out that there might be a dangerous dragon trapped inside, the last thing the Museum of Unnatural History wanted was its return. And I'm pretty sure you'd be hard-pressed to find any other museum who would want it should word get out. Of course, those who need to know do know the truth – for the most part – but it's largely agreed that this way is safest." he explained.

Rorek smiled. "Indeed."

"Okay, we got it cornered, there's no way it—IT'S ON MY FACE! IT'S ON MY FACE! GET IT OFF!-!-!"

"Hold still, man! Stop flailing like tha—OW!"

"You know, I'm thinking that is a hare, not a rabbit." Rorek observed.

"What's the difference?" Nightwing asked as Rorek's room became slightly more specious by one broken dresser.

"Oops…" Cyborg said.

"They're larger, faster, and a bit less docile. Particularly the females. I believe this one is the size of a grown rabbit because it is young. Also, as we have just witnessed, they can jump incredible distances." Rorek answered.

The hare stood up on Rorek's desk, its ears back and its air challenging. Cyborg and Beast Boy were approaching it cautiously but Rorek came forward.

"Allow me, good sirs." he said. He approached the hare with his hand out, palm down and fingers lax. The hare eyed him, supremely unimpressed by the obvious superiority of these bipeds, but sniffed at him nonetheless. Then, to the room's amazement, Rorek calmly stroked the creature. It didn't seem to mind.

"Dude! How did you do that!" Beast Boy exclaimed.

"I have always had a way with animals." he explained, picking the hare up and folding her into his arms. She settled in contentedly and began to nibble at one of his vambraces.

"Sorry about the dresser, man. We'll find another one." Cyborg said, gathering up the pieces.

"I appreciate the generosity, Sir Cyborg."

"Just call me Cyborg, or Cy. The 'Sir' just doesn't work for me." Cyborg told him.

He and Beast Boy had managed to get the broken dresser out of the room just as a pile of linens and plastic crates floated in through the door with Starfire's legs poking out beneath them. She deposited the pile on the floor. "Here you are, Friend Rorek! I have brought things from the closet of linen and other items that you might use to decorate your new room! There is paint, curtains, and many strange decorative objects that look like something a wizard might have hanging in their room." she told him.

"Um, Star? Some of those are Christmas decorations..." Nightwing pointed out, but Starfire wasn't listening. She had just seen Rorek's new friend.

"Oh how cute!-!-!" she squealed, zooming over to pet the small creature on its head. "Is this your pet?" she asked eagerly.

"I suppose…if there is no objection?" Rorek asked, looking at Nightwing. The youth shrugged.

"Sure, why not? Just as long as she and Silkie get along, I guess." he answered.

"Glorious! What is her name?" Starfire asked.

Rorek thought for a moment, then decided, "Ru."

"Hello Ru! I am Starfire. Come, let us go to the kitchen and find you yummy things to eat!" Before Rorek could think to protest, or warn the girl, Starfire scooped up the hare and proceeded to float back out of his room. Over her shoulder the newly-christened Ru gave Rorek the most reproachful look he'd ever seen on a leporid.

Rorek decided to begin sorting through the items that Starfire had brought for him. The curtains already over the window were serviceable enough so he set them aside and drew out what appeared to be bed clothes.

"Do you really want any of this other stuff?" Nightwing asked.

"Thank you, but no." Rorek answered. "I am grateful for the offer, though. I hope my lack of curious orbs, jarred oddities, and colored liquids bubbling in cauldrons will not disappoint Lady Starfire too much." he said. Nightwing chuckled.

"She'll be fine." he said.

"Sir Nightwing," Rorek began as he levitated the chosen linens to his new bed.

"Just Nightwing is fine for me too." Nightwing told him.

"Very well then. Nightwing, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Have you…had much to do with Malchior?" he asked.

"A bit. Why do you ask?" Nightwing questioned. Rorek could sense the walls going up. He was going to have to handle this carefully.

"I don't know how much you know about our history, but…" He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I am not sure how to put this. We have a history that is beyond the common story of the rampaging dragon and the knight in shining armor come to slay it. We are not exactly friends, but…I am wondering if it would be possible to convince you that the rampaging dragon might not be entirely evil. Just as – you may have noticed what with my attacking you and all – the knight in shining armor is not entirely good."

Nightwing cocked his head to one side and gave Rorek a curious look. "What are you saying?" he asked cautiously.

"I am saying that Malchior is not evil by nature. I am saying that, perhaps, just as you forgave me, there might be some room to forgive him as well? I do not know what dealings you have had with him, I do not know how you discovered there was a dragon in that white book, but people can change. Perhaps a thousand years of imprisonment might be enough to convince him that his previous behavior was unacceptable. Perhaps even an ancient dragon can change."

"Are you suggesting we set him _free_?" Nightwing asked, his eyes wide with shock.

"With limitations, I assure you." Rorek said, holding his hands up in supplication. "He would have to stay here with us in the tower. That is why I am speaking to you about this first rather then broach the subject to Lady Raven. I am given to understand that such a matter would, ultimately, be your decision. I am aware I am asking much, but I intend to find some way of repaying you for the kindness you have already shown even if you do not agree to my request."

"Um, I don't know if you've noticed, but we don't exactly have a room big enough in the tower to house a dragon. Well, there's the basement, but he'd be stuck down there with all our junk." Nightwing told him.

"Ah, let me explain: Dragons – many of them but not all – have the ability to take on human shapes. Their power is reduced like this, but it was a skill they used often to better communicate with humans. A human is far more likely to speak to a dragon that looks like a human than they are to speak to one that looks like a dragon regardless of how friendly said dragon is." Rorek explained. "We would simply bind him into his human shape.

"I can handle Malchior." he went on, "And Lady Raven can handle me. Between the two of us I have a hard time believing he could break loose and become a threat again. If it appears he is refusing to accept his new station as one of the 'good guys' then we would seal him back in the book and say no more of it."

Nightwing considered him for a long time. "Let me think about it and discuss it with the others. I'll let you know what we decide."

"Thank you. Shall I speak of this to Lady Raven, then?"

"I…think you should let me do that. Besides, when she stays shut up in her room through breakfast that typically means she needs some alone time. I wouldn't bother her at the moment if I were you. At least, not without waffles. And even then don't expect much more conversation than 'thank you' and the sound of her door closing back up." Nightwing answered.

"Ah. Understood. Thank you again."

(O)

Raven twitched when the knock came on her door and she glared at it, wondering if she could just ignore it. She took a deep breath and let it out, calming herself down. Or trying to. When the knock came again she decided that, if nothing else, she would exact righteous vengeance upon the pitiable soul who dared interrupt her 'me' time. She shut her book with a snap and stalked over to the door. She opened it and was about to shout 'WHAT?-!' when she realized she was addressing a plate of fluffy brown waffles that were topped with blueberry syrup and a small ice-cream scoop of butter.

"You did not come down for breakfast, My Lady. Are you hungry?" Rorek asked.

Deciding all was forgiven, Raven accepted the offering, mumbled 'thanks' and closed the door back up.

Rorek coughed outside. "I have some milk here as well. Won't you be thirsty? It's the oddly palatable strawberry-flavored kind."

Setting her plate down on her bedside table she returned to the door, accepted the milk with another mumbled 'thanks', and returned to her bed wondering what in the world _that_ was all about. Levitating the book so she could eat her waffles and continue reading, she paused a moment to wonder how come Malchior wasn't making some snide remark. Then she remembered she'd shut him up in the closet so she could _actually_ be alone. She continued eating. The waffles were really good.

(O)

It was evening. Most of the Titans were in the living room. Only one of them was still in her room. So when Rorek entered and looked about, Nightwing couldn't help but notice – on account of having been watching for it – the slightly disappointed look in his eyes.

"Sometimes she just needs to be alone. She'll come out eventually." he said reassuringly.

Rorek looked startled, and then embarrassed. But, fortunately, no one else was paying them any attention. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

Nightwing tried not to grin and wondered if he succeeded. "Well, seems to me you two have a lot in common. And here you are stuck in what's practically a whole new world for you; it's only natural to cling to something, anything, that's familiar." he said reasonably. "If I were in your shoes I'd probably want to stick around Raven myself." Which, he had to admit, was a bit of a lie. Raven was pretty and everything – in fact she was gorgeous – but she wasn't nearly as…approachable as Starfire. Most guys who didn't know her would find her incredibly intimidating at first glance and wouldn't be at all comforted by her 'leave me alone I'm reading' signals. One leer was all it took to send even the most optimistic hopeful packing before he'd even mustered the courage to approach her. Admittedly she was getting better at that, _but_…

Well, there was a difference between being pretty and being _attractive_. Lightening is pretty. Does that mean you want to get close and strike up a conversation?

Rorek, though…well he definitely wasn't some random teenage boy and he definitely wasn't Nightwing.

The wizard coughed. "Indeed." he said awkwardly. "Does she not come out for food during these times?"

"Not sure. She probably does when no one's around." Nightwing answered, shrugging.

"Hey Rorek! Wanna try your hand at Bionic Racer?-?-?" Beast Boy called from the couch.

"What? What is that?" Rorek asked.

Beast Boy jumped over the back of the couch and came over to the wizard. "It's fun! Come on, we'll show you how to play." he said, taking Rorek by the hand.

Rorek yanked his hand away with such force that it almost sprained the changeling's wrist and he nearly struck Beast Boy with the same movement. He managed to stop himself, however. "**Don't touch me**!" the wizard snarled. The sudden venom in his voice startled everyone, but Nightwing was more worried about the feral hostility in the wizard's eyes and the defensive way Rorek's muscles were tensing.

"Whoa, dude, I'm so sorry! I forgot about the whole touching thing. Won't happen again, I promise!" Beast Boy said earnestly, his hands held up in supplication.

Rorek blinked and his stance relaxed. He seemed to suddenly realize where he was. "N-no." he stammered out, "I am the one who should apologize. I should not have reacted like that. Please forgive me." he said, a hand going to his eyes. He rubbed his forehead.

"Are you okay?" Cyborg asked. "You want me to check you over again?"

"No, I am fine. Again I apologize; I should not have lashed out like that regardless of…it will not happen again. I am sorry." Rorek told them earnestly.

"It's not your fault, Man. You _did_ warn us about the touching thing." Cyborg told him. "Next time just go ahead and smack him. He can take it."

"Yeah, Raven does it all the time." Beast Boy grinned.

"If there is anything else that brings you the discomfort please do tell us." Starfire put in.

"Thank you I…I shall. Please excuse me." Rorek turned and all but fled the living room. After a second's hesitation, Nightwing followed.

They were some ways down a random hall when finally Rorek stopped and sighed, but did not turn 'round. "Again, I am sorry. I will try not to let it happen again."

"It's not a problem, Rorek. Really. We all have little quirks. Beast Boy can't eat meat, Cyborg half-thinks and half-processes, I can't even look myself in the mirror without a mask on anymore, Raven's facebook status has been 'antisocial' since Cyborg made her that page, and Starfire will put mustard on anything, even ice cream. I'm just wondering if maybe this is something more serious than a mere discomfort."

"You would be correct." Rorek admitted. "But I can overcome it. If I had kept myself in check I would not have lashed out like that."

"Do you want to talk about it? It might help." Nightwing offered.

"Thank you, but I have tried talking about it in the past."

"To a friend?"

Rorek turned just enough that he could look at Nightwing without straining his neck. The wizard looked no older than Nightwing but suddenly, in that moment, there was an age and wariness in his eyes that made him seem almost ancient. "No…not, exactly a friend…" he admitted. "I…have not had many friends."

"I can't promise I can help, but I'm willing to listen and I'll keep whatever you tell me a secret." Nightwing told him.

Rorek looked at him, and then looked away. And it somehow seemed that the aged wizard was gone. Now Rorek was a child who wasn't sure of his own thoughts. Eventually, though, he came to a decision. He turned to face Nightwing fully, mind made up. "If I do speak to you of this, you must promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"That your answer to my problems is _not_ going to be, 'Get on your knees and beg the Lord your God for forgiveness, oh heathen sinner'."

Nightwing managed to keep a hold of himself just long enough to make sure Rorek was, indeed, joking and then he burst out laughing. "P-promise!" he gasped out.

Rorek's eyes smiled.

(O)

The speakers of Raven's stereo system were artfully concealed behind or inside various decorations about her room so they didn't disrupt the ambiance. Her computer was also shut away in the only hidden closet that _wouldn't_ give any visiting architects a headache, and even then it was a small closet with just enough space for the desk and a chair to roll up underneath it. All the actual electronics were behind the wall and the flat screen was, more or less, part _of_ the wall. She was idly searching the web for anything amusing when there was a knock on her door for the second time that day. What time was it? Hmmm, pretty late. Perhaps she'd been shut away long enough _not_ to snap at anyone that wasn't carrying a plate of waffles.

She got up and answered the door.

What greeted her this time wasn't waffles, but it was close enough. Rorek was holding a takeout box complete with napkin, chopsticks, and a glass of iced tea. The smell of fried rice was wafting from the box and reminding her stomach that it had had nothing since the waffles and the water she kept stashed in her room for these occasions.

"Nightwing and I went out to an Asian restaurant and we brought this back for you in case you had not eaten." he told her.

Oh…that was really…sweet. And it was bringing back those strange feelings she thought she'd stamped out that first day. She mentally shook herself and bullied her emotions into order. "You don't have to do this." she told him.

"I know."

"I don't starve myself."

"Well I had hoped not, so thank you for telling me." He held the items out to her. She took them, feeling awkward.

"Thank you." she said.

He swept into a bow. "Twas my pleasure, My Lady."

She wasn't blushing, was she? She was blushing, wasn't she? _Bahrahgol!_ "Just…call me 'Raven'." she said before closing her door.

She took her food back to her computer and sat down to enjoy her meal. She couldn't pay much attention to the computer, however. Instead she did some mild meditation while she ate in an attempt to get her emotions back under control. Unfortunately a small part of her kept asking her _why_ she was so focused on keeping a lock on everything. She didn't need to do that anymore. Whatever had tied her emotions directly to her power had been severed or fixed. She could let her feelings go wild and free like Starfire did if she wanted to. So what was the problem?

She could answer that question all too easily. The problem was Malchior. The problem was Rorek. The problem was that there were feelings…and then there weren't. Were her current feelings for Malchior mere friendship or was there something of that four-year-old scar there? And how, exactly, did she feel about Rorek? She didn't know, she didn't understand these things.

Four years ago she had been so naïve and thirsty for companionship and understanding that she had believed herself to be in love with Malchior. But if that had been real love then she was sure it'd have taken much longer for her to heal; much longer for her to forgive and forget and put it all aside. Perhaps what she'd felt then hadn't actually been love but a sense of companionship that went deep enough it had confused her. What did she know of love? Friendship she understood. Friendship was safe and comfortable. Friendship was all she needed.

She returned her attention fully to her computer and it was then that she noticed she had two e-mails. One was from Mr. Spander. The other was from The Man.

_Vopruzah! How did he get my e-mail address?-!_ she demanded. And then she realized that was the second time she mentally swore in Draconic. She was going to have to watch that.

She opened the one from Mr. Spander first. It was a long one. Hiding in fancy wording and multiple congratulations was the subtle hint that any and all interests the Museum of Unnatural History (and Mr. Spander personally) had had in the grimoire stopped the moment they got word that it might have a powerful rampaging dragon trapped inside. They also hoped to high heaven that she could handle it because they most certainly could not and, even more certainly, did not _want_ to. Mr. Spander requested that she come by the museum at her earliest convenience to sign and date the official deed and pick up the rest of the book's documentation. There was no need _what_soever to bring the book itself with her on this occasion.

Raven mentally toyed with the idea of bringing Rorek along with her instead, but decided she probably wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if she did. She wrote him a reply e-mail to tell him she'd come by the next morning, realized it was after hours, and amended this to the morning after tomorrow. The one from Batman was most likely about the book as well. It _had_ been his after all – or rather, it'd been Bruce Wayne's. And it'd been valued at a considerable sum of money.

It _wasn't_ about the book.

It wasn't about the book at all.

_Raven,_

_We have never corresponded but I have learned much about you from Nightwing. While the two of us do not see eye-to-eye I know I can trust his judgment. Also, whether you realize it or not, you are largely being considered the most competent and potent magic-user of your generation. That you all but single-handedly defeated a dragon four years ago attests to this. And so that is why I have chosen to contact you as well as one or two others. I will try to be brief._

_In the past months there have been three rather particular murders in Gotham. All three of these individuals were influential people of great resource, but aside from this they did not appear to have anything in common save the methods of their deaths and the oddities involved. Each of them were killed slowly in various methods indicative of torture. Each of them had their jaws ripped out and each of them was drained of their blood. I will not go into further detail on this score, but I suspect magic of some nature._

_Three of the pictures I have sent you were taken at each crime sight and were written in the victims' own blood. Furthermore each victim had this symbol tattooed somewhere upon their person, depicted in the fourth image file. It suggests an alumnus of some sort, but I am skeptical and have found no information about the symbol thus far in my search. The ink that was used for these symbols is strange and closer examination indicates that it is paint rather than a tattoo. So it is very likely this paint was applied upon or after the time of death._

_I would be grateful for any insight you might have. If you require further detail let me know._

_Batman_

She felt…odd. A strange calm had settled over her mind and part of her mildly wondered if this was how the wind felt just before all the turbulent forces of a storm focused into one specific spot and down came the tornado.

She opened the last image file first and wondered, dully, if she should be more surprised about what popped up.

It was red.

It was the Mark of Scath.

(8)

A/N: 8D THE PLOT THICKENS!-!-! LIKE CHICKEN SOUP!-!-! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-! Now that's one heck of a cliffhanger to leave you at for the entire week, huh?

Once again, just slapping meaning onto random draconic words. There aren't any official swearwords in Skyrim's dragon language, but it only makes sense to me that a dragon should be able to let out a swear of the kind that, literally, singes the landscape. So I grabbed a few words, slapped them together, and draconic swearwords have been born. Huzzah!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
No thanks, I'd rather brood.

Malchior and Rorek sure are lucky Raven didn't catch the fact that Malchior started calling Rorek by his modern name, huh?

PS: 'Squares' is up! Don't forget to check it out if you're looking for a laugh (or a reason to bang your head against the wall :D). Until Friday!


	13. Blood Like They

A/N: Fair warning: This chapter gets a bit serious in the middle. Any power-hungry vampire types out there are not going to like it much.

(8)

_We were parted by necessity for a time but I thought of her often and wrote to her though she never wrote me back. Yet my desires had to be put aside for there was an evil in the castle I had come to which could not be described. It was in the shadows, it was in the darkest nights where you dare not light a candle for it would do nothing but define the darkness. A terrible crime had taken place and there were voices whispering nonsense. The villagers believed there were ghosts; spirits of the dead returned. But the dead do not return. The dead never return._

_This was something else. Something worse._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 13 – Blood Like They**

Hair in a tight ponytail, wearing nothing more than black leggings, a black top that exposed her arms and midriff, and serviceable black shoes, Raven had been in combat with the obstacle course for two hours now. The fact that she not only kept doing it over and over again but was working the strictly non-powered version that Cyborg had set up for her was a _definite_ sign that something was wrong. Or so Nightwing claimed. Rorek was inclined to trust his friend's judgment but could not find it in himself to share the sentiment.

The strength of the sun's light bleached her skin, turning it white as fresh snow. Violet hair streamed in the wind, sweat glistened off more skin than he felt he had any right to see, and that well-curved figure was twisting in ways that were causing him to close his eyes for minutes at a time and think very firmly of cold water.

"I was not aware the human body was able to bend like that." he told Nightwing almost nervously.

"It takes time and lots of stretching. Listen, you didn't notice anything last night, did you?"

"Nothing at all. Oh my…that was a rather…effective kick."

"It's not her birthday for several months. She seemed fine the other day. I wonder if…"

"I feel like we should not be watching this. I can't help but wonder if she is fully aware of how much that last strike would have hurt a man made of flesh rather than wood."

"In this day and age all girls learn that at around 7. The last time she—"

The two of them froze up when Raven hit the finish line and, instead of running back to the beginning, she jogged towards _them_. Despite Nightwing's reassurances, however, Rorek was still halfway convinced that he was about to get hell for seeing the lady in what he would definitely consider to be en dishabille.

But she just passed them by with no more than a glance as she headed towards the tower.

"Um, Raven? Is everything alright?" Nightwing called after her.

"Nope! Shower now, talk later!" she shouted back.

"Well, at least she's going to talk about it. That's a good sign." or so he thought. "You okay there, Rorek?"

"Fine! I'm fine!"

(O)

He tried not to read too much into it. He tried to tell himself that he was expecting too much from too little and he had no reason to feel…like this. They were friends. Close friends who had been through a lot together. It only made sense that she would feel more comfortable speaking to only Nightwing. He knew from personal experience how easy it was to speak to Nightwing.

Yet the burning feelings of, yes, _jealousy_, were not being banished with logic. _He_ wanted to be the one who she talked to when she was upset. _He_ wanted to be the one she asked to speak with, alone, in her room, sending all others away. And that thought needed to stop there before it went way too far.

_They are friends. Close friends. Would something not have been said had there been more to it than that?_ he assured himself.

_She's a powerful sorceress. She lives and fights with individuals that she could, at full power, simply swat away as like flies. Yet she deigns to follow __**his**__ orders and, for reasons she has chosen not to disclose, she keeps her true power locked away. This is __**not**__ the sort of scenario that would be considered at all common in the past._ he thought back.

_This is not the past. And Raven is not a typical sorceress._

Unfortunately it was hard to deny what the evidence suggested; that he and Malchior had another rival to contend with – one who was already in the lady's confidence.

That made him wonder: Just how much did Raven speak to Malchior? It was starting to become apparent that Rorek had some catching up to do where the lady's favor was concerned.

Cyborg sidled over to where Rorek was sitting at the dining table trying, and failing, not to brood.

"Soooo, wanna listen to some of the future's finest music?-!" he asked, pulling out a small music machine called a 'speaker' and giving Rorek a much too eager expression.

"Er…" 'No thanks, I'd rather brood.' probably wasn't the best response. However, Rorek had been here long enough to be wary when either Cyborg or Beast Man got that smile on their face.

Fortunately he was saved just before the laps in his response might have reached the length of rudeness. Nightwing appeared at the door, spotted him, and gestured. "Rorek, need a word." he called.

Rorek escaped with a murmured apology to Cyborg and he went to join Nightwing out into the hall. "Is everything alright?" he asked, though one look at Nightwing's expression was all it took to know the answer. He felt his own expression become grim. "What happened?" he asked.

Nightwing ran his fingers through his hair, "I…" he sighed, "I wouldn't drag you into this, but Raven found something in your grimoire last night and she thinks you might be able to help."

"Help? Is she in trouble?"

"No, it's not like that. It's the whole hero thing that we do, you know? But there's some of it that's a bit personal for her and we don't talk about it. We'll tell you what you need to know but what we do tell you is confidential. We'll tell the others but no one else, alright?"

Rorek nodded. "Understood, lead the way."

When they entered Raven's room here was an opened section of wall that had not been there before and from it was coming light from a computer screen. Raven was standing next to it and she was holding the black Grimoire in her hands. A large black ribbon was sticking out from somewhere near the back of the book.

"Last night she was contacted by a…colleague concerning something going on in his city. He believed it had something to do with magic." Nightwing explained.

"He was right." Raven stated in an uncomfortably level tone. She opened the book to a place where the ribbon had been laid out. "I checked up on it last night, but none of my books do any more than mention it – with good reason. But one of them showed me a diagram that I remembered seeing in here – though your book has it in far more detail. My Draconic isn't good enough for this kind of heavy reading, you see, so I need you to tell me what you know of this magic." and she showed him the very last page he wanted to see in any circumstance.

Rorek recoiled. He felt physically sick and had to fight in order to keep his stomach under control. "Lady, please!" he gasped out. "Of all the magics that could have survived from my time that is the last that I would have wished to see! Please tell me you do not seriously believe that is what your fellow is dealing with!"

"What do you mean? What is it?" Nightwing asked, alarmed by his reaction. Raven, he noticed, did _not_ seem surprised. She must know enough. The fact that she was so calm about it worried him.

Rorek shook his head. "No, I will not speak of it." he said, holding up his hands. "It is dark, my friend. Dark and evil."

Nightwing's brow furrowed. "I always thought magic was just another way of doing things, like science. How can magic be good or evil? Isn't it what you do with it that determines good or evil?" he asked.

"Magic in and of itself is no more than a tool, you are correct. However, it is a tool that requires power; energy; some sort of force behind it. One must always consider the source of the power. If the source in and of itself is tainted then the magic will be tainted and all that is used with it will twist to that taint whatever the user's intentions. That is all I will say. Please ask me no more I beg of you." he implored.

"I'm sorry, Rorek, but we need to know about this. If someone is using this magic – not that we know for sure," Nightwing added swiftly when he saw the look in Rorek's eyes, "But Raven thinks this is too much of a possibility."

"You are asking much of me, my friend." Rorek said, shutting his eyes as if he could disappear from this. "There are few magics worse than this; perhaps only one and I will speak nothing of it at all. The only reason I have learned this one and inscribed knowledge of it in my Grimoire was to know my enemy and nothing more." he told them.

"I understand." Raven said. He looked at her.

"How much do you understand, Lady Raven?" he asked her.

"I know where the power comes from and I have vague impressions of the ways it could be used. I'm also pretty sure I could sense it, though I don't know that for a fact. That is about where my knowledge begins and ends." she told him. "I know just enough to recognize the signs of its possible use."

She was very detached. Uncomfortably so. He didn't like that, but perhaps this was her way.

"And you wish to know more?" Rorek asked, his heart sinking. "Lady, I would gladly teach you everything I know save this thing." he told her desperately.

"We don't have a choice, Rorek." she stated severely. "If someone is using this magic then we have to know what it is, what they are intending to do with it, and how to stop it. Our personal feelings on the subject are immaterial."

The hint that she did not desire any more knowledge than she had was comforting, but only slightly. She was right, though. He had stepped into the world of those whose lives were dedicated to the defense of the realm, and not just their own realm at that. In the past he had been just like them, had he not? Things had…happened, but was that any reason to say no now? Did he think he could simply live here and not be asked to assist in some way? Did he think he had the right to refuse? All things had a price. He bowed his head in defeat.

"Tell me what you know of the…incident, such as it might be." he said.

"Three people were killed. The three of them had nothing in common save that they were all powerful and/or influential, and the way they died. They were tortured to death, drained of all their blood, killed in their own homes, and a certain mark was found on some part of their bodies that had been painted in red. At each incident a single word was written on the wall in the victim's blood." Raven told him. She then produced three photographs for him to look at. The three words were 'blood', 'they', and 'like'.

He took the photographs and rearranged the two last words.

_Blood like they  
Bone like we  
Salt like thee  
Tear like me  
Warmth like world  
Feast of the Serpent._

He finished his recitation and handed the pictures back. He didn't want to believe it, but now he had to. This was too much of a coincidence.

Raven must have seen the realization in his eyes. There was calm understanding in her expression. "Does it matter that they were rich and influential?" she asked him.

"Yes, Lady Raven. It does. There would be…more."

"More what?" Nightwing asked. "What did that poem thing mean? It sounded like gibberish to me."

"It is meant to, even in the original language." Rorek answered. "It is…a chant, one meant to focus…a certain magic." he explained.

"What is the 'Feast of the Serpent'?" Nightwing asked.

"That can have two meanings, though in this context it is obvious which is the intended one. The serpent has always been a symbol of evil, though the creature itself is no more to blame than humanity – perhaps even less so for it is just an animal. As a symbol, however, and in this instance the serpent feasts on others for power. Not survival, understand, but power for the sake of power. The second meaning is what you call the Oroborous; the serpent swallowing its own tail. But that is something else entirely." Rorek said.

Nightwing sighed. "Look, both of you, I understand that this is something you don't want to talk about, but I need more than what you're giving me. What is this?" he asked.

"It's called Blood Magic." Raven said. "And, as the name suggests, the source of power is blood."

"Alright, that's kind of gross." Nightwing said bracingly. "But…why is it so bad? I mean, what's evil about blood? I cut myself all the time and nothing happens."

"Blood is not evil. It is the act of obtaining it which is." Rorek told him.

Nightwing was still confused. "Again, I cut myself all the time. How is that evil?"

Rorek sighed. "What you are thinking of is known as a 'blood sacrifice', but that is something else entirely. In this it is not, as you seem to think, one's own blood that would grant one the power." he explained. "One cannot obtain more power from oneself than one has. It would be like taking a pond and cutting out a river that looped back to the pond itself and expecting to get more water. No. In order to gain power one must take it from another. The more blood that is taken, and – in the worst of instances – the more pain that is inflicted during the process, the more power is gained from it."

Nightwing's expression went hard. "Okay, _that_ I understand." he said severely.

"I'm not sure that you do." Rorek told him solemnly. "Not fully. Please appreciate the seriousness of this crime, Nightwing. At its very core, at the very start of it all, and in the deepest of magics, blood is the ultimate currency. All that you are is in your blood. It is your very life. It is what takes your life from one part of your body to the next and continues on. You must have blood to work, blood to feel, blood to walk and talk and think. Theft of blood for the sake of power – power, not survival, that is important – is one of the greatest sins one can commit. It is almost as bad as murdering your brother for his wife. Such a thing taints the power irrevocably. Nothing you do with that power will ever end in good, no matter what the intention. This is magic at its deepest and darkest. It is magic without iron, lacking laws that we can comprehend, lacking the safety of equivalencies. Do you understand?"

Nightwing nodded. "I think I do. At least somewhat. So what could they do with this power?"

"A lot." Raven answered. Rorek nodded. "I don't know everything, but there are some…innate capabilities of this magic that don't come easily with any other method. I only know two of them. I imagine Rorek would know more."

"Mind-control." Rorek stated. Raven nodded. "That is one of the most terrifying. One can also use another's blood to do more than increase one's magic. It can be used to increase physical prowess as well; strength, agility, stamina, and so on. The user can even give another this power if he or she so chooses, and there are many, _many_ curses which can be fashioned by this magic. Perhaps this murderer seeks nothing more than the taste of power. That may be even more dangerous than an individual with a purpose. Power is a terrible addiction; it corrupts so easily and this magic is among the worst for it. It is only too easy for mortals to fall prey to the sin of gods. I am afraid that there will be more murders – especially if this individual intends to scribe the entire verse. I shudder to think of how much power he or she will possess if they kill so many." he said.

"Unfortunately…Raven thinks it's more than just an individual."

Rorek felt the blood drain from his face. One user of this foul magic was bad enough, but many working together? Even if it were several non-mages around one user—no, they would not stay non-mages for long. The magic was simply _too easy_ to learn and use. Whether this one mage wanted his or her followers to practice the art or not, they would learn just by watching for too long.

This could not be happening. Why did this have to be happening? After everything they had been through…finally they seemed to have found some semblance of peace; a situation so relaxed that they might have even been able to engage in an activity as mundane as fighting over a woman. He _wanted_ to fight for this woman. He _wanted_ his chief concern to be her favor and nothing else. And now this! _This_!

Suddenly he was angry. Why? Why this? Why again? Why now? Why must the world always be on the brink of chaos?-!

He looked at Raven. Her expression was mask-like but her eyes were set and fierce, her gaze so steady and solid. She felt like a rock standing there; an unshakeable wall; a well of strength. _If only we had you the last time this happened, My Lady._ he thought. "You are sure?" he asked softly. She nodded. Then she handed him a fourth image. This one was just a red mark on white paper. It looked like a stylized 'S', but something about its sharpness gave him an odd feeling. At first he thought his heightened nerves were making him see ill omens everywhere – that perhaps he was simply _expecting_ to see evil here. So he tried to detach himself from his emotions. Either he was unsuccessful or there really was something…deeper in this mark.

"This was found on the bodies in red ink that was painted on rather than tattooed." she explained. "It's called the Mark of Scath. Do you know it?"

He shook his head. "I do not. What is 'Scath'?" he asked.

"Scath is an epithet for Trigon." she answered.

"I'm sorry, Lady Raven. Neither of those names are familiar to me. Is this a person?" somehow he doubted it. She seemed to expect him to know the name but he did not.

"He's an inter-dimensional demon." she told him. "Very powerful and, fortunately, very dead too."

He wasn't entirely sure what an 'inter-dimensional demon' was. The Gift of Tongues seemed to be failing in this respect because the word 'demon' was used for so many things – though most of them evil. It seemed to be another word for 'monster', so if she meant it as a specific type of being he was at a loss.

"However," she went on, "many centuries ago a cult that worshiped him managed to free him from his prison. Trigon himself was defeated by the monks of Azarath, but the cult, who call themselves the Church of Blood, wasn't completely wiped out in the process. Somehow they've managed to survive over the centuries despite the monks' persecution. They were thought to have finally died some time ago. Now, though…"

She didn't have to finish; he could guess. "Has this cult been known to use blood magic in the past?" Rorek asked.

Raven nodded. "Yes. In fact we personally encountered a minor form of blood magic only a few years ago, though at the time I wasn't completely sure that's what it was."

"We _have_? When? Where?" Nightwing asked, surprised.

"Brother Blood." she answered.

Nightwing's eyes went wide. "He's not connected with this cult, was he?"

"I wasn't sure at first. In fact, at the time, I managed to convince myself that he was just using the name 'Brother Blood' because it sounded interestingly villainous. But the more I look at this the more it fits together. You see, the cult has traditionally been led by two individuals: A man and a woman, though the man is usually the primary leader. The man is called 'Brother Blood' and the woman 'Mother Mayhem'. We saw nothing of any Mother Mayhem when we were fighting Brother Blood, but now I get the feeling that this was because his school was little more than a hobby he turned into an obsession and the cult simply indulged the fancy. I imagine he left the running of the cult itself to Mother Mayhem so he could focus on his school." she explained.

"So we're dealing with Mother Mayhem now?" Nightwing asked.

"Or a new Brother Blood." Raven answered. "Either way it looks like the cult has no more interest in H. I. V. E.. This, however, isn't a good thing. At least the old Blood seemed to draw the line somewhere. If he had used the magic extensively I would have felt something, I know. Even now I'm not so sure that was where his mind-control power came from but I strongly suspect that it is. Especially if he was the _real_ Brother Blood and didn't simply take the name because he liked the sound of it."

"Perhaps this Brother Blood was just knowledgeable enough to know what the magic would do to him in the end and he wisely avoided all but the surface powers." Rorek mused.

"He did seem to pride himself on his intellect." Nightwing mused. "I think we should tell Cyborg about this." he said.

"I agree." Raven said. "And I think Cyborg should send Batman all the files he had on the previous Brother Blood and everything associated with H. I. V. E.. I'm going to send him everything I know about the cult and its magic." She turned to Rorek. "Are there any proven methods of fighting Blood Magic?" she asked him.

He nodded. "The most common was the Iron Tooth." Rorek answered.

"Iron Tooth?" Nightwing repeated.

Rorek nodded again. "In the past when knights set out to combat this magic they would often have one of their teeth coated in iron. This would block the mind-control power of Blood Magic and it proved to diminish the potency of any curses or other such powers. They would also wear armor with iron somewhere in the alloy. It was the only truly effective method." he explained. "I am not entirely sure why. I believe it has something to do with certain…forces that twist around this particular metal. But I do not know for certain."

"Iron…" Nightwing's eyes went wide. "Cyborg!" he exclaimed. "The alloy in Cyborg's body has iron in it! That must be why Blood could never truly take over his mind."

Rorek's eyes widened. "Indeed? Then he would have been a truly formidable knight back in the old days. He will be an invaluable defense against this threat." he said.

"Good. I'll let him know about the iron, then." Nightwing decided.

"What more can I do?" Rorek asked. _The sooner this is dealt with the better. I'll rip them to pieces with my bear hands if I have to._ he thought viciously.

"If…_when_, we go to Gotham…we may ask you to come with us to help us against this Blood Magic." Nightwing told him.

"Of course." Rorek agreed.

"Then I'm making you a temporary Titan, at least until this is all dealt with. After that…we'll see." Nightwing said. "I'm going to go tell the others and get a message to Batman."

Raven nodded and sat down in the seat that was positioned just before the computer closet. "I'll get to work on mine now."

Rorek suddenly found himself alone with Raven in her room. Part of him knew he ought to follow Nightwing back out…but a rather stronger part of him did not want to.

_Dangerous._ warned a different part of him. He ignored it.

Raven had the grimoire open next to her on the desk. When his eyes strayed to it his mood was rather spoiled by the sight of that despicable diagram. He wished she would close it. Just looking at that…_thing_ wasn't safe.

Some sort of implement emerged from the wall next to Raven's screen and a bright light shone on the book. To Rorek's horror an exact duplicate of the image appeared on the screen. Before he quite knew what he was doing he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. He knew his grip was much too tight and he forced himself to relax it when she looked up at him, startled. "What are you doing?" he asked her softly.

"I'm sending a copy of this to Batman. He might—"

"_Don't_." he hissed. He stared deep into her eyes, _willing_ her to understand, trying to tell her with his eyes alone just how much she shouldn't. "Please, do not copy this. Do not show it to anyone. That diagram alone…anyone who knows how to read these could learn everything they need to know about Blood Magic to use it. It is a terrifyingly easy magic. Far too easy."

"We can trust Batman." she told him.

"This is not about trust. Raven this is _dangerous_. Please. If I thought the only copy of this diagram were in my grimoire then I would happily tear out that page and burn it in the hopes that it would be lost forever. I would burn the entire grimoire if I had to. Do not copy it. Please."

She held his gaze for a moment, and then she nodded. "Alright." she turned back to the screen and the image disappeared. She performed a few more actions he did not quite comprehend and then she said, "It's gone. I'll just describe the symbols as best I can through text, just in case."

"And warn him. Tell him if he sees the diagram he must destroy it at all costs." he said. He removed his hand, though part of him didn't want to. What was it about powerful sorceresses? Why was it that he could stand the touch of no other and yet they drew him to the act?

Nightwing had suggested that, perhaps, it had something to do with his fear of being feared. A powerful sorceress need not fear him for she could defend herself from him. And so he did not fear her; did not fear her touch. Those who did not fear did not strike without serious provocation. They did not feel the need to engage in small cruelties as a means of ensuring those they feared continued to fear them. 'I fear you and so I will make you fear me out of self-defense'. It was a twisted circle of logic and he wished it wasn't as true as it so often proved to be.

Raven did not fear him at all.

"Can you think of anything else he should know?" she asked.

"To expect more than one wielder of Blood Magic. As I said: It is _easy_. Anyone who sees too much of it practiced before them, even those who have never performed magic before, can learn it." he answered. "Those who use it tend to develop tricks to hide it from possible rivals but this only ever serves to buy them more time before the studious figure it out. Fortunately one can only learn it if they are aware of the magic and have the presence of mind to study in the first place." he explained.

"Do you think it's possible they are _all_ using Blood Magic?" she asked.

"If they were then they would soon be killing one another for the accumulated power. If this cult's magic-users are at all intelligent they would have recognized this threat early on and would not allow this knowledge to spread if they could help it." he answered.

"That's some good news I guess." she mused.

Her pale fingers flew across the keyboard and words upon the screen were their result; he could understand this much. It fascinated him to such a degree that he couldn't quite muster the presence of mind to read what she was writing. It probably didn't matter.

He lingered; watching, waiting, and wondering. Finally she was finished. The light of the screen was turned off and Rorek blinked in the gloom. Raven stood up, pushed her chair under the desk, and closed the small computer area like a closet. A closet that disappeared utterly when it was closed. He noticed she left the grimoire in there as well. It was a clever hiding place.

"Done." she said. He nodded and followed her out of her room – though not before glancing about for any sign of Malchior. He couldn't help but wonder if she was keeping him in some invisible closet as well.

He hoped Nightwing remembered his request concerning Malchior. They were going to need his help as well if this was as bad as he thought it might be.

(O)

Cyborg was beside himself with fury and it was making him irrational. Raven knew he'd be over it once he vented all the residual rage and pain over the whole Blood fiasco, but that didn't mean she enjoyed his shouting. She'd just endure it until he was done, then he'd apologize profusely and probably kiss her butt for the next two weeks. That meant Cyborg Waffles every day, and he was much better at them than she was. So that was something to look forward to.

"—I MEAN WOULD IT HAVE BEEN SO HARD TO SIMPLY RAISE YOUR HAND AND SAY, 'HEY, I THINK I'VE HEARD OF THIS GUY,'?-! YOU DON'T THINK THIS MIGHT HAVE BEEN—"

She wasn't sure how he did it. Somehow he knew exactly the right mixture. Or maybe the machine just loved him. Maybe she could request some hash browns, ones with mushrooms in like how Waffle House does them.

"—SO MUCH TO ASK THAT WE KNOW SOMETHING USEFUL ABOUT THE EVIL MANIACS THAT WE—"

And he'd probably buy more strawberry milk too. She was getting low. She rather suspected that Rorek was drinking it too. Not that it was _hers_, exactly. She just drank it the most.

"—OOD MAGIC! BLOOD MAGIC!-!-! THAT EVEN _SOUNDS_ DANGEROUS! WHAT ALL COULD HE HAVE DONE TO ME IF HE HADN'T DRAWN THE LINE, HUH?-! AND HERE I THOUGHT HE HAD NO LIMIT!-!-! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA—"

"ENOUGH!-!-!"

Raven started slightly in surprise. Rorek seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere and was suddenly in front of her. Hadn't he decided to retire to his room? He must of heard the shouting. And now _he _was angry. Very angry. It felt like the bone-biting chill of winter frost and it made her shiver slightly. There was a stark difference between hot anger and cold anger, and cold anger was almost always worse. At least with hot anger you knew what to expect. Cold anger – not so much.

"You stay out of this, Man!" Cyborg snapped.

"No." Rorek's voice held a chilling fury that was frightening in its calm. Some of that seemed to seep into Cyborg and he paused. Rorek's stance was protective and intimidating despite the advantage of height that Cyborg had over him. "I appreciate your strength of feeling, but Lady Raven is not to blame for your pain."

"My pain?-! I ain't in pain I'm mad! She—"

"Enough." The hiss was icy, threatening, and there was something a bit too…substantial about the voice itself. Like there was some sort of extra reality to it that went further than being waves in the air. Raven wondered if Cyborg could feel the frost the way she could. Surely she wasn't the only one who thought it was colder in here. "If you wish to continue shouting, then by all means, go right ahead. But I am not moving." which meant Cyborg would be shouting at Rorek now instead of Raven. There was a distinct threat in the wizard's voice too, even if it wasn't in his words.

Cyborg, very wisely, decided to back down. With one last glare at the world in general he muttered something about working out and left.

"You didn't have to do that…but thanks." Raven said. Rorek stared at her as if he didn't know what she was.

"Why do you allow him to make such accusations and speak to you in such a manor?-! He has no right!" Rorek exclaimed.

"It's not as bad as it seems." Nightwing said, coming up and putting a hand on Rorek's right pauldron. Rorek tensed for just a moment. Then he relaxed. "Cyborg's been somewhat…agitated lately. We're not sure why. In fact _he's_ not sure why. We've found that the best way to deal with it is to let him get it out of his system and not take it personally."

"Just last week he kept yelling at me for something that was completely minor." Beast Boy told him in a voice of injury.

"Comparatively minor, maybe, but _you_ didn't have any reason for leaving the television on all night for five nights in a row." Nightwing stated, removing his hand from Rorek's shoulder. "In any case, he'll be fine after a while."

"Then he'll feel really guilty and will probably do my shopping for me." Raven said with a small smile.

Rorek looked at her and then chuckled. "In that case I apologize for my interference. Perhaps next time I should ask permission before threatening your assailants, Lady Raven." he said, sweeping into a bow.

She snickered. "Only when they're friends, mind you. I have no problem with you throwing spellfire at any villains that come after me."

"Ah! Thank you, I am grateful for the clarification."

Starfire suddenly let out a giggle. "Rorek and Raven sitting in a tree! G-I-I-K-N-S-S!" she sang.

"Um...what?" Rorek asked, but Raven just sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Just ignore them." she said. Beast Boy was snickering too.

"Actually, Starfire, that's not exactly how it's suppose to go." he pointed out with a wide grin.

"But the other version is not alphabetically correct." Starfire protested.

Raven was about to make some snide remark when something tugged at her cloak. She looked down. "Um…there's a hare on my cloak…someone want to explain that?"

"What color is it? If it's not green it's not mine—oh."

"Ah, sorry, that would be Ru." Rorek said as he retrieved the creature. It was still staring fixedly at Raven. "I suppose she is my pet. We found her in my room just yesterday. We're not sure how she got there but she seems to have made herself comfortable." he explained.

"She and Silkie get along famously!" Starfire gushed. "Is she not adorable?"

"Er, yeah, cute." Raven said, tentatively holding her fingers out to the hare. It sniffed at her, then bumped the top of its head up against the tips in what was an obvious command. "Seems to be acting more like a cat than a woodland creature." she mused, stroking Ru's course fur to the apparent contentment of the leporid.

"Yes I noticed that too..."

"Perhaps she was raised by kitties!" Starfire suggested.

Once more Raven decided to let Starfire have her fantasy.

Ru leapt down from Rorek's arms, took a moment to stretch a bit, and then proceeded to cause much mayhem and entertainment by leaping right onto Beast Boy's face.

"AUGH!-!-! NOT THIS AGAIN!-!-! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!-!-!"

"I like her." Raven decided.

(8)

A/N: I love Starfire. She is just too much fun sometimes! XD

Quick note for all the pickers of nit out there: Cyborg's body reacts with magnets in canon. The only metals that can be magnetized or react to magnets is iron, nickel, cobalt, gadolinium, and compounds of same. Cyborg _could_ have nickel, cobalt, and gadolinium in his alloy, but iron is often thought of as the strong metal. It is a key component of steel after all. That being said: Cyborg's body MUST have iron in it (quite a lot) or else the bad guys would not be able to get at him with their magnets. So there.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
I seem to have produced mushrooms. Not sure how that happened.

FF is now allowing us to put up images as covers for our fanfics. Wow. I guess this means I gotta draw something for Circles, huh? I haven't done much drawing in a while, though, so don't expect it to be awesome…or soon.

Tomorrow's update of Squares shall be Option A. :D


	14. Bad Hare Day

A/N: Seems there was some confusion about Starfire's 'sitting in a tree' goof, so I'll explain it. 'G-I-I-K-N-S-S' is 'K-I-S-S-I-N-G' in alphabetical order. Starfire simply came down with a temporary case of CDO (which is 'OCD' in alphabetical order; **the way it should be**). Nothing to worry about, though. Ehs's efin now.

Cat: You're not, though.

HSTU PU ACT!

Cat: Your spelling is going to be even worse than it was 8 years ago if you don't snap out of this.

I'M EFIN!

(8)

_The wizard woman the people called 'Madam Crow' was at once old and young. In truth I could not decide one way or the other for once I thought it was one the other appeared upon her face or in her voice. She confused me, constantly contradicted herself, and yet somehow knew what it was I sought though I had few words for it. She frustrated me greatly, however, for she answered me in riddles and told me that my answers would be in the solving of her riddles rather than the solutions themselves. I did not understand and I had no patience for her.  
_

_Later, I would wish I had listened more closely to everything she'd said to me that day. Perhaps things would have turned out differently if I had. Never again did I treat her council with such flippancy._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 14 – Bad Hare Day**

**To say Malchior was agitated would have been tantamount to saying piranha were a bit peckish. Flames were erupting from his mouth in a roar that, now she knew to listen for it, had the definite sound of 'Yol' somewhere in the modulations. He was spouting it out like a swearword. She wondered if it was in some way. Perhaps for dragons there was swearing and then there was _swearing_. The first option being comprised of specific words you shouted out to relieve your feelings while the second could be any word you wanted just so long as it _did_ something to relieve your feelings. That wouldn't surprise her.**

**She had decided to use this dream place to tell him what was going on. She'd kept him shut away all this time and simply hadn't slept at all the previous night so he'd stayed (literally) in the dark. He was already a bit irate when she finally pulled him out. At first she thought he was mad because he thought she had gone to sleep without him; he'd be worried that the gods might have tried to contact her again. But somehow he knew she hadn't had any sleep and started harping on her about her health instead; saying she'd missed quite enough sleep to be getting on with and what did she think she was doing getting _no_ rest at all like that?**

**It was actually kind of sweet.**

**He kept insisting that she rest so she just laid the book down on her bedside table again and started talking once her eyes opened in the grassy planes of this odd book-bound dimension.**

"**They won't have been the first; the corpses I mean." he finally growled out. It was the first coherent phrase she'd heard from him thus far.**

"**What do you mean?"**

"**Blood Magic is a progressive addiction. At first they'll only take a little from their victims. A drop here and there that's easily spared and probably never missed. Then they'll want more and will start taking more. After the first kill they'll realize just how much more they get when the victim dies. It is a sickness of the mind that can trap anyone, no matter how resolute or well-intentioned. I've known only a few cases of magic-users who managed to pull themselves free of it and never touch it again." he explained.**

"**Rorek said that the theft of blood for the sake of power is a crime so great it actually taints the magic itself. But is it possible for Blood Magic to work if you have a willing contributor and your intentions are survival, whether it's your own or someone else's?" she asked.**

"**It is, and a truly willing sacrifice would give the magic great power that is wholly clean of taint. But you must understand that it is…it is like a drug. Yes, very like a drug. The drug called marijuana is destructive but in certain instances it has medicinal properties. Consider that taking blood only from a willing sacrifice and only to perform some desperate act of survival is similar to taking this marijuana to combat whatever illness is in your body. You do it legally at first, but it is very addictive and once you no longer need it you begin to crave it because of the feeling. And it is exactly that; a feeling. The magic itself makes you feel good; powerful; capable of anything at all. And when you stop, when the magic runs out, then you see how much the world hurts and frightens on a day-to-day basis. You crave the relief that magic gave you. And the moment you steal another's blood in order to feel that power you have fallen into the evil of it and have become its slave. It is possible to break free, but it is so difficult. So very difficult…_almost_ impossible…especially if you are alone…"**

**She stared at him. "You've used it." she realized, her eyes widening.**

**He froze,. He hung his head, not looking at her. "Once…" he admitted. "It was enough. I still remember the feel of it coursing through my veins, and the temptation never truly leaves you. But despite every other crime I have committed I have never again made use of that magic. I have learned to fear it. You should fear it as well, Raven. You are far too calm about this." he growled at her.**

"**I _do_ fear it." she stated. "I am simply not allowing my emotions to cloud my thinking."**

"**That is not always a good thing." He walked over to where she was hovering in the air with her legs crossed and sat down, lowering his head to her level. "Sometimes instinct does not agree with rational thought. And sometimes instinct is right where rational thought and logic are wrong. I am not talking about the fear that consumes and paralyzes; I am talking of the fear that ensures survival. Fear of consequences, fear of danger, fear of the Powers That Be. Perhaps the word I seek is somewhere between the word 'fear' and the word 'respect'. Perhaps it is a combination of the two. Whatever the case, you must be careful not to treat this with any amount of flippancy."**

"**I won't." she promised.**

**He nodded his acceptance and then shifted into what was becoming his usual position as he curled up around her. She lowered herself so she was only hovering just above the tall grass and his wing came over to block the light. He closed his eyes but she hesitated a moment. She wasn't entirely sure how to phrase what she wanted to say, or the question she wanted to ask. The fact of the matter was that, regardless of Rorek's sentiments concerning Malchior, they might need the dragon's help against the Church of Blood. Not just his advice, but his power as well. She wasn't quite sure if she trusted him with his freedom or not but…**

**Actually no, that was a lie. In all honesty she _did_ trust him. Deep down she trusted him. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but somehow she could _feel_ that, if she let him out now, he would no longer be the dread dragon. Perhaps it was his honesty. Perhaps it was the fact that he was being open with her about things he knew she wouldn't like, and the shame she could hear in his voice and sense by his manor.**

**It was simply that sheer experience was keeping her cautious, telling her that she would be stupid to trust him fully despite how much she wanted to and felt she could.**

**What she was sure of beyond all else was that she'd feel a lot better knowing they had a gigantic fire-breathing magic-using dragon on their side.**

**She decided to wait. Perhaps it would be best to let Rorek know what she was thinking first.**

(O)

There was shouting going on but, for once, it _wasn't_ Cyborg's and it _wasn't_ at any of _them_.

They couldn't hear anything much, even with their ears pressed up against the door. Nightwing had thick walls since he kept some spare training stuff in his room and tended to smack into them. Because of this Cyborg had long ago done some work so that, instead of the walls and door getting dinted, it would be Nightwing. His reasoning was that Nightwing could heal himself; the walls could not.

So all they really knew was that Nightwing was angry. They could only guess why but, in truth, there were only two people that could make Nightwing lose his temper like this: Slade and The Man. Two guesses as to who he was talking to right now but you'll only need one.

When the shouting ceased the Titans had only a few seconds to rearrange their positions so they could innocently pretend they _hadn't_ been crowding around his door before it opened. Nightwing was still fuming. One did not have to be an empath to know that.

"So…when are we leaving for Gotham?" Cyborg asked tentatively.

"We're _not_." Nightwing seethed.

"**WHAT**?-!"

Nightwing clenched his teeth. "Batman says he can handle it. He appreciates our information and considers it of invaluable importance, but there is no need for us to go to Gotham personally. There are other, more experienced, magic-users he can call upon." he grounded out. "Now, if anyone needs me I'll be making use of the obstacle course."

"Did you…tell him about Rorek?" Raven asked after him with some caution.

"Nope! Didn't bother!"

And he was gone.

The Titans all looked at one another.

"So…suddenly this _isn't_ our problem?" Beast Boy asked uncertainly.

"An organized party of Blood Magic practitioners working together is _everyone's_ problem, Beast Man." Rorek stated. "I assume we will be defying the wishes of this Batman, then?"

"Don't bet on it." Cyborg answered. "If The Bat says he can handle it then chances are he can and it's not our business to decide otherwise unless these people come to Jump City. That's likely what Nightwing will tell us – though probably not with the same words."

"I must confess: I would feel more comfortable about this situation if Nightwing were the one in charge." Rorek told them, shaking his head.

"Who do you think trained him?" Raven asked.

Rorek's eyebrows rose. "I see. Then, perhaps we need not worry?"

"Not until The Man says we should, I guess." Beast Boy said.

"Mmm…"

"Let's go get some breakfast." Raven suggested.

(O)

Raven opened the fridge. It was full, and mostly of things _she_ liked. Cyborg sidled up next to her with a big smile. "I gottcha more of that strawberry milk you like so much." he said brightly. "Just last night! Um…sorry I yelled at you…last night…some of the things I said…"

"I forgive you." she told him, grabbing one of the half-dozen quarts of strawberry milk that the fridge had been stocked with. Hopefully she could drink all this before it went bad…

"Still…the whole thing with Blood…I just want you to know that I know it's not on you. I mean…if you didn't know for sure and all…and what with the whole Scath thing…I'm just saying that if it was me I'd probably keep it to myself too. I just wish I knew why I've been feeling so…crabby lately. I feel like I got this…_itch_. Like something's bugging me and I just don't know what it is." he went on as she poured herself a glass. His next words somehow managed to grin and leer at the same time, "Though I'm gonna have to be careful not to go yelling at _you_ from now on. Seems _someone_ is a bit protective."

"Lacuna Coil _and_ Tristania." Raven threatened.

"Alright! Alright!" He backed off, hands held up. "So…anything I can do to make it up to you?" he asked.

"Waffles?" she suggested as Rorek approached them.

"You got it!" he said, whipping on a cook's apron and hat. "Cyborg's special bomb-diggedy waffles come'n right up y'all!"

"Would you like some assistance?" Rorek offered.

"Sure man. But you gotta wear an apron!" Cyborg answered, holding one out.

Rorek took it gingerly. "This is…necessary?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah-huh." Cyborg nodded.

"Er…very well then."

It took some doing but eventually Rorek was able to figure it out and got the item on securely. Once this was accomplished Raven pulled out her communicator. She took a picture. She couldn't resist.

Fortunately Rorek didn't seem to realize what she'd just done. Neither did he apparently realize that the apron was, stereotypically, a rather feminine article of clothing. It wasn't, in fact. Aprons were unisex because of their usefulness. It was the frills that did it on _these_ aprons. It was strange, really. It seemed to Raven that men who wore girly things and didn't mind were either, well, gay or simply so comfortable in their sexuality that they didn't care and were all the more manly for it – or something like that. It was like those T-shirts that said 'Real men wear pink'. They just liked what they liked and where was the harm in it? Take Eric for example – though Raven strongly suspected _he_ was just flat-out clueless.

It was still really cute and the waffles were _really good_.

(O)

The Museum of Unnatural History seemed to be doing a bit more business than usual when Raven arrived. What was more, the clientele was a bit…_different_. Was it her imagination or did she see Jinx's pink pig-tails in the crowd? Interesting. She would have thought Jinx's primary interest in museums had ended the same time her affiliation with H. I. V. E. had. There seemed to be a bit of…difficulty, but since Raven had an invitation she decided to go ahead and bypass it.

"Ah-aa-AA!" Paper went instantly flying when she emerged as a shadow in Mr. Spander's private office. "M-m-miss Raven!"

"Sorry about that. There was a crowd at the front door and people seemed to be a bit upset. Anything wrong?" she asked.

"No, no! Nothing's wrong!" except the fact that he and his vowels apparently got into a fight and he didn't love them quite as much anymore. "I am very glad you're here!" he exclaimed, scrambling to pick up all the papers that he had scattered.

There were a lot of things she had to sign and a lot of papers that she would be taking home with her. But they managed to get through it all swiftly enough with Mr. Spander stammering through quick explanations of everything so she didn't have to read it all. The basic gist of them all was this: The book was now hers and hers alone. Any damage, harm, or inconveniences caused by any rampaging dragons trapped inside were her responsibility and not the museum's or Wayne Enterprise's. An attorney was called in to notarize several of her signatures and all the necessary documents she would be keeping were placed in a folder for her.

Once it was all finished she gave Mr. Spander and his curiously normal vowels a suspicious look. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?" she asked.

"No! No! Nothing at all!" he assured her.

He was lying through his teeth, but he obviously didn't want her help. So she said goodbye and teleported back to the Tower where she found a decent place to keep these documents safe.

(O)

It was later. Beast Boy and Cyborg were on the video games again, Starfire was getting something from one of the spare cupboards about the living room, and Raven was finishing off another glass of strawberry milk with a book hovering in front of her. It was the old-style romance that she'd found at Abby's, meaning it was about knights and maidens and you were lucky if it mentioned kissing because of all the fighting that went on in the background. It was really good too. Eventually, though, she decided to close it, put her glass away, and head back to her room for a bit. She got waylaid.

"Ah, Lady Raven," Rorek, who had long since divested himself of the apron, began.

"You _can_ call me Raven, just Raven. I'm sure I said." she told him.

"Yes, you have said." he responded with a smile in his eyes. "I was just…I mean…the weather is quite nice today, do you think?" he asked.

"Um…" _Dear Azar, why is he asking me about the weather?_

"Oh yes, it is a glorious day!" Starfire gushed, suddenly appearing next to them with a straw hat on her head, a small spade in one hand, and a small rake in the other. "A day of bright sunshine! Perfect for the flowers and the bushes and the grasses and the trees! Do you not agree, Friend Raven?" she asked eagerly.

"You…want to do some gardening today?" Raven asked.

"However did you guess?" Starfire asked brightly, placing a second straw hat on Raven's head.

"Why do we have gardening supplies in the cupboards?"

"Um…"

(O)

"What the…" Raven stared fixedly at the grass that she had been tending to, not sure she believed what she was seeing.

"The violets have given us the bloom!" Starfire cheered from the other side of the garden. "Are they not beautiful?"

"I seem to have produced mushrooms. Not sure how that happened."

"And such pretty white flowers upon our large tree friend! I wonder if it shall give us the fruit later."

"I mean, there isn't any shade here. It's all sunny. And where did the spores come from in the first place? Last I checked, mushroom spores were not packaged with bird seed."

"And how are you today Mr. Bush? Are you going to give us flowers soon?"

"Could the wind have blown them? No, not likely. And even if it had there wouldn't be a perfect circle like this, would there?"

"I wonder if we should try the composting. What do you think, Friend Raven?"

"And they're maroon. Is that a normal color for mushrooms?"

"Perhaps we will start with orange peal!"

"Why are they all the same size?"

"Hmmm? Friend Raven! Do you know why some of my grass appears to be lying down? Does grass get tired?"

"Whoa!" Raven leapt backward, startled by the sudden and abrupt appearance of Ru on her grass. "How did she get through a closed door?-!" she demanded.

"Oh hello Ru! Are you here to help us with our garden?" Starfire asked.

Ru looked at them, twitched her nose, scratched an ear, and then proceeded to go completely crazy.

It was like she'd suddenly turned into something between a lawn mower and the cartoon version of a Tasmanian Devil. Raven and Starfire could only watch blankly as the grass (and, subsequently, the mushrooms) were shredded into bits that went flying in all directions. Much of it getting on the two of them. When she was finished the grass was completely level and she just sat there, sedately, as though nothing whatsoever had happened. She twitched her nose at them, leapt down off the large pot of grass, and then hopped over to the next pot. The same thing happened.

Ru went from pot to pot, targeting nothing but the grass, and, somehow, without any claws or fangs to speak of, mowed them with great efficiency. Once she was finished she cast about to see if there were any she'd missed, twitched her nose, and then ran back towards the door that, it turned out, was cracked open. She disappeared within and courteously closed it behind her.

"Oooooooh-kaaaay." Raven said, uncertain.

"My…my grass…" Starfire sniffed.

_Uh oh…_

(O)

Margaret could hear the sounds of hiccupping as she neared the door and she opened it curiously. Her eyes widened when she saw Raven there towing a sobbing Starfire by the hand. "Is your brother available? I think this is a job for a makeover." she said.

"Sure thing. ERIIIIC!-!-!" Margaret called over her shoulder. She opened the door wider and stepped aside to let them in. Starfire was hovering in the air and just allowed herself to be pulled inside. "Bad hair day?" Margaret asked.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Why is she going on about grass?"

"Don't ask."

Sometime later…

The Divan house was, like Raven's room, somewhat bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. So they had more rooms and more room in those rooms than any town home had any right to have. Eric might be hopeless as a magic-user, but that wasn't the case with Margaret. And so Eric had a small salon of his very own in the back where there was even enough room for Raven to sit out of the way and watch.

After the first fifteen minutes Raven realized that Eric _could_ use magic when he wasn't sleep-villain/heroing, and not just with hair and makeup. He even did nails, and very well. He painted little flowers on Starfire's finger nails and – at the Tamaranian's request – grass on her toenails.

Starfire _sparkled_. It wasn't just the big smile that had returned to her features, either. She looked like a goddess of fire in all its colors. Her hair was thick and lustrous with wide corkscrew curls at the ends and tiny braids added here and there for decoration. She had eye shadow that artfully faded from lavender to green, bright pink lips, pink blush, and dark green mascara. Her nails looked very nice, even if the grass was a bit…odd. Still, it was Starfire all the way. Somehow it seemed as though Eric hadn't so much as put the sparkles on but simply _brought out_ the sparkle that was already there.

Starfire and Eric were both gushing to one another over the result. Her thanking him and him exclaiming over his 'excellent material'. Then Starfire turned her big glittery eyes to Raven, who smiled. "You look amazing, Star." she said. Starfire beamed like a rainbow sun. "Thanks a lot, Eric. What do we owe you?" she asked.

"Oh I'm not finished yet, Miss Raven." Eric said with a wide smile, a brush in one hand, and a small pair of scissors in the other.

"Uh…" She wasn't sure she liked the way he was staring at her hair. Starfire's beam had altered slightly as well. It now had the excitement of anticipation and that anticipation was focused on _her_. Hmm, perhaps she should have been paying a bit more attention to the chatter.

_Uh oh…_

(O)

Nightwing was still angry, even after his shower and leftover waffles. Rorek wondered what he could do. He had the feeling that telling Nightwing how happy he, personally, was that another had taken the responsibility out of their hands would probably blow up in his face.

He remembered the way Nightwing had simply sat there and listened to Rorek as he spoke at length, giving the conversation only enough words to keep Rorek's own words flowing. The effect had been…cleansing. It felt as though some great weight that he had been carrying all these years wasn't quite so heavy anymore. Of course Nightwing had offered some observations, advice, and encouragements that Rorek greatly appreciated. Somehow, though, Rorek couldn't help but feel that the youth had done him more benefit by simply sitting there and listening than the thousand words of the priests and scholars he had known in his own time.

Perhaps it was time to return the favor.

So he left the living room and made his way towards Nightwing's private quarters. He happened to pass by one of the various bathrooms and noticed the door was open. There were also sounds coming from it. The sound of running water as well as Raven's voice.

"I still can't believe I let the two of you talk me into this. Why isn't this washing off? Doesn't makeup wash off? Where's the soap?"

"But Friend Raven, you look wonderful! Why do you wish to remove the makeup?"

"I don't _do_ makeup. And the soap's not working, wonderful. Look, it's not even smearing. Is that normal? That's not normal. How long is this going to last? Stop giggling. This isn't funny!"

"I apologize. But I think Eric's work is marvelous!"

"You two are going to be the death of me…"

"It is not that bad, is it?"

"I'm just…not use to this." Keeping to one side of the door and feeling guilty for eavesdropping, Rorek heard the lady sigh. "When I was growing up my looks were the very _last_ thing I had to worry about. And now…It took me about three years to decide to grow my hair long because I liked how it _looked_. Maybe I just don't like change."

"Looking pretty cannot be a _bad_ change."

"I guess not…I just don't see the point. I don't have any _reason_ to look pretty."

"Do you not feel good about yourself when you look good?"

"I…suppose…well…maybe a little bit…" the lady admitted awkwardly.

"Then that is reason enough!"

"Hmm…"

Arms crossed over his chest, Rorek's fingers tapped a dance upon the opposite black-clad arm.

So, she didn't have a reason to look pretty. That was mildly annoying. It seemed to indicate that he had been…what was a good modern expression? There was one there that he had come across in his mental perusal of the language. Ah! There it was. He had been 'friend-zoned'. Fortunately this also meant any other males after the lady's heart were suffering a similar treatment, so perhaps this was a good thing.

Very well then. He always did prefer a challenging pursuit, whatever his goal. He would simply have to _give_ her a reason.

Making as though he were only just now passing by the bathroom he glanced within and froze. He did not need to fake his surprise.

Lady Starfire was the first to catch his eye, but while he had to admit she had a great deal of natural beauty and charm that he imagined was very attractive to the modern man of this time, she was simply not…what was a good term? Ah, yes. She was not his 'type'.

Raven, on the other hand…

Her deep violet hair was thick and cascaded down her shoulders in waves of glossy brilliance. Part of it had been pulled up into a sort of half-ponytail that added extra dimension to the shape, but two front locks had been left to frame a face that was…different.

Her eyes were shadowed, her lashes dark and thick, her pale skin had somehow managed to take on an even more attractive hue (something he had not thought possible), and her full lips had obtained a curious shade of sapphire. He had not thought such a color suitable for lips, but either Raven simply made it work or he was pre-disposed to like it based on the overall effect – which was _astounding_.

She looked like what every other powerful sorceress he had known had sought to appear as and yet could only ever dream of achieving. She was dark, mysterious, dangerous, and _much_ too tempting. In his own time the sorcerers would be lining up for the chance to kiss her hand and introduce themselves. Sorceresses were formidable enough – they had to be – but a powerful sorceress with _that_ kind of beauty? She could have had her pick of any kingdom and become that court's archmage within the year.

The girls were both looking at him. He could feel the Lady Starfire's happy and expectant smile fixed on him but he could not tear his eyes away from Raven. Neither was he able to think of anything to say. 'You look beautiful', simply _did not_ cut it.

"We traveled to the house of Eric Divan who has great skills in the art of hair and makeup!" Starfire told him cheerfully. "Do you not think Raven looks amazing and should delve into the arts of the 'looking pretty' more often?" she asked.

_No, the reason being I am a man and not nearly as strong in my self-control as I like to believe I am._ he thought. But he managed to tear his eyes from Raven in order to answer Starfire. "Oh, yes! Um, certainly! You both look _very_ lovely." he told her awkwardly.

Raven rubbed at her face but the action had no effect. She glared at herself in the mirror. "I don't have a problem with this," she seemed to be telling herself, "I am alright with this. I just hope it's not _permanent_." she stated.

"Come, Raven! We should show the others!" Starfire exclaimed.

"Er…no, no that's alright." Raven said, her eyes wide and her hands held up in defense. Rorek couldn't help but share her reluctance. He did not particularly like the idea of _other_ men seeing her, even if they were her friends. But then her expression became thoughtful, "Although…I think if you paid Nightwing a visit on your own it might cheer him up." she said in a rather different tone of voice.

Starfire brightened. "You think so?" she asked eagerly.

"Absolutely." Raven answered. "Go on, go talk to him." she said, making shooing motions with her hand. Rorek noticed that her nails had been shaped and painted. They were black, but there were small curling designs in gold drawn upon them as well. They glittered.

"I shall!"

Rorek managed to leap out of the way just in time to avoid being run over by the enthusiasm of the slender powerhouse. She seemed exceptionally eager. Hmmm…

Raven came out of the bathroom and the door closed behind her. Rorek turned to her, pointing in the direction that Starfire had just flown. "Would I be wrong in thinking that she and Nightwing are…courting?" he managed. Did he sound hopeful? He hoped not.

Raven sighed and rolled her eyes. "Sort of. You might say they're courting but pretending they're not at the same time. It's a bit complicated and a bit stupid. They definitely like each other; that's not a secret except to _them_. But they've been dancing around one another for years and the rest of us are just waiting for it to become official."

Ah ha. So that was one possible rival removed. Rorek felt more than a little relieved. He wasn't sure how well his newfound friendship with Nightwing would hold up should they both desire the same woman. Such a thing had a history of destroying even the strongest of friendships. Perhaps there was something he could do to push the two together, but he would wait. At the moment there was a _particularly_ beautiful sorceress in front of him and talking to him in a comfortably companionable manor. The only way this situation could improve was if he could get her to blush and smile at him. She seemed to smile only rarely, but when she did…

She was _nothing_ like the sorceresses he was use to; women whose smiles were full of daggers and secrets and lies. Raven's smiles were honest and warm. He wanted more and he wanted it badly. Perhaps too much?

"Perhaps they simply require the right…opportunity?" he ventured aloud, forcing his mind back on track. In truth he'd just been casting about for something to say, but he realized an idea was forming itself in his mind and he allowed it to take shape. It was something to talk about, one way or another.

Raven gave him a look of interest. "Specifically?"

"Some time alone, perhaps. When no one else is around or are going to be around for a time. I would suggest that they remain here in a familiar and comfortable environment, if only so they cannot blame any confessions on the so-called 'heat of the moment' and similar."

"You're suggesting that the rest of us find some excuse to leave the tower for a while and let them handle things on their own." She considered this. Then she looked mildly miffed. "Why haven't we thought of that?" she demanded of the world in general. "Come on, let's go get something organized with Beast Boy and Cyborg while they're busy!" she said, grabbing him by the wrist.

A shiver sliced down his spine. She was touching him…touching _him_. He followed along behind her, only too willing to allow her to lead him anywhere she would. A very strong, very male part of him wanted very much to grab her and push her up against the wall. Beyond that, however, his mind was a bit fuzzy. This was because the only time he'd ever done such a thing, the sorceress in question had thrown him out the window. Considering they'd been in a rather tall tower at the time, one could say he'd learned his lesson.

"Festus bei umo canavarum…" he muttered under his breath in ancient Nahl, his eyes fixed on the dance of her violet locks as they made speedy progress towards the living room.

(8)

A/N: Whoops! Wrong Fandom! XD Virtual cookies to anyone who can tell me where the line of so-called 'ancient Nahl' actually came from. Here's a hint: You are only allowed to know if you are around 14 or over. Sorry. Also, you probably _won't_ know unless you play video games. Apologies again.

It means, "You will be the death of me." BTW.

Don't forget to check out the latest update of Squares!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Yeah, she probably _would_ kill you. Even with waffles this time.

As always, feedback is much appreciated. Especially when it includes spelling corrections (THANK YOU CINIS!). But I also like to know what people think of the story so far. Sometimes it gives me ideas…:D


	15. Declination

A/N: 100 reviews! YAY! Thank you all so much! :D

Cat: Are you only writing this for the reviews?

Of course not! I'm only _posting_ it for the reviews.

Cat: That's kind of selfish.

Hello Pot, my name is Kettle.

Cat: Oh whatever.

PS: This chapter's a bit early today since I came home on my lunch break to post it. Got a concert to go to after work so I will get to my replies (and subsequent post-update editing) later tonight. Also, virtual cookies for Cinis, who figured out that the so-called 'ancient Nahl' from the last chapter is actually Arcanum from Dragon Age (video game). ^_^

(8)

_I laid testimony to King Yord against the Duke of Golt but in the end it was rejected. I warned him not to allow this man to live for the shadows would never leave his castle unless he was brought to justice. But I had no proof of my allegations save the testimony of night terrors and the whispered knowledge those defined corners of darkness imparted to me when I lent my ear to them. In the end it did not matter. When my plea for justice was denied the Duke of Golt was found butchered in his own dungeons. I was suspected despite my distance, of course, but I was not the only wizard asked to investigate this matter and my fellows vouchsafed that no magic had been done and no mortal man had been near His Grace during his time of death. His Majesty did not understand me when I tried to explain the true cause of His Grace's death. He believed the priests; that this was the work of demons._

_But no demon did this. Finally I understood what Madam Crow meant when she said that the guilty had more to fear from the darkness than the innocent._

_The darkness is not evil; shadows are not evil. But neither are they friendly. And they have no concept of mercy._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 15 – Declination**

Jaws dropped when she appeared in the living room. For a moment she thought it was because she was still holding Rorek by the wrist so she let him go. Then she remembered her makeover.

"Dude!" Beast Boy exclaimed.

"Whoa, Raven! What happened?" Cyborg asked.

"Eric happened." she answered. "Ru went crazy and mowed all Starfire's grass and she got upset so I took her to the Divan's house to get a makeover. Then she insisted I get one too and I couldn't get out of it." she explained as swiftly as possible. "Anyway, you know we've been trying to think of how to get her and Nightwing to stop dancing around one another? Rorek thinks that if the four of us left for a while so they'd be stuck here alone together something might happen."

The two guys looked at one another. "Alright, but if either of them suspect anything it won't work. Do you have a plan?" he asked.

"We'll have to do it one at a time. Cyborg you can get the Titans East to call you and ask you to come down for something. Beast B-Man, can you get the Doom Patrol to call you back for a temporary reunion or something?" she asked.

"You got it! But what are you and Rorek gonna do?" Beast Boy asked.

"I thought about asking Argent to call me over for something but Nightwing will get suspicious if we all get called away. So I'm thinking I'll start us off by taking Rorek to Europe to show him Stonehenge and we'll stay with the Titans there. We'll help them out so Nightwing won't get too uptight about the idea of this being a vacation. Once we leave, Cyborg can have Titans East call him three days later, then the next day Beast Man will get called off. That way it seems random." she said.

"Great! How long should we stay gone?" Cyborg asked.

Raven turned to Rorek. "What do you think?" she asked.

"As long as possible without arousing suspicion or causing undue inconvenience." Rorek answered.

Raven, wholly unaware of the wizard's ulterior motives, said, "We could probably get away with two weeks but no more. Cyborg should come back first, then the two of us, then Beast B-Man."

"Sounds like a plan." Cyborg said with a wide grin. "We'll follow your lead. Any idea when you think we should start this?" he asked.

"A few days at least. I'll wait until the two of you have contacted your excuses. I also need to make sure Argent and her crew can accommodate the two of us." she answered.

"You think we—"

_**BWEEEP! BWEEEP! BWEEEP!**_

Red lights flashed about the tower as the sirens went off and various parts of the three official Titans blinked in sync. For a moment Raven panicked, only too aware of just how resilient her makeover had been to water and soap. A quick wash was _not_ going to fix this. But there was no _way_ she could go out and fight like this! Starfire could. Starfire would be _great_! But her?

And then she remembered her hood and felt a little silly. It wouldn't hide her lips or nails but at least the whole thing wouldn't be obvious. She could deal with this. She was okay with this. She didn't mind being pretty. She liked being pretty. Why shouldn't she like it? What was wrong with being pretty?

Nothing. There was nothing wrong with being pretty. It was just the attention she wasn't use to and wasn't sure she liked. The way Rorek kept looking at her…she needed to meditate. Badly.

(O)

Johnny Rancid hadn't been nearly as much trouble as he usually was. He kept getting distracted by Starfire and, in the end, wound up ridding his bike into a brick wall. He got carted away with a broken nose and two broken ribs. So that had been more or less painless. Well, not for Johnny, obviously.

Once they were back at the tower she left the others joking and laughing and headed swiftly for her room. It was the only place she could meditate where she knew she wouldn't be interrupted. She preferred an open or wide vista like the roof or the living room, but at this point she didn't trust either of them. Also, she had a sign for her door that would ensure she'd get some solitude unless something serious came up. She slapped it on and closed the door securely behind her. She then removed her cloak, belt, and boots so she'd be more comfortable. Unfortunately she was so distracted she forgot two things: 1, her makeover. 2, Malchior. A long low whistle brought both of these back to the forefront of her mind.

She turned and leered at Malchior. He was leaning comfortably against the wall as a paper man and looked to be enjoying himself far too much. "Oh no, don't mind me. Please continue."

"Alright, I am willing to accept that you are somehow able to talk without a mouth and larynx, but whistling?" she demanded.

"Actually, if you think about it, a whistle is a far easier sound to achieve than actual speech. And in my own voice at that. The waves do not require near as much complicated modulation. If you're going to wonder about anything it should be my curious ability to form words, not simple sound effects." he answered.

"Mmm, you've got a point." she mused, walking over to her bed. He aimed to intercept her and caught a lock of her hair in his paper fingers.

"So, what is all this then? I never thought of you as being one for makeup. It's not as though you need it. Not that I'm complaining. You look amazing."

She sighed. "Rorek's new pet hare, Ru, went crazy with some of the patches of grass that Starfire has been growing in her rooftop garden. Starfire got upset so I took her to get a makeover in order to cheer her up, not knowing that she would insist I get one too." she said, running her own fingers through her wavy hair. Even in the dim lighting of her room it had a glossy sheen. "Anyway, I should probably tell you about this morning. Will you stop playing with my hair?"

"It's beautiful, Raven." he told her softly.

Really, really, _really_ needed to meditate.

"Thank you. Now pay attention." Azar, first Rorek and now Malchior. How long was this going to last? "It's about the blood magic."

_That_ worked. He let go of her hair. "What is it?" he asked.

"We have, more or less, been stood down."

"Come again?"

"The Batman told Nightwing that he's not going to need our help, that he appreciates our information but has other magic-users helping him and we're not to worry about it." she told him.

"Then he does not appreciate just how great a threat this is!" Malchior suddenly exclaimed. "Blood magic is everyone's problem! I do not care how competent this Batman thinks he is, he should not refuse help when it is offered; not for this! If this is not dealt with swiftly then it will spread like a disease! The last time that happened it—" he stopped abruptly. Raven looked at him. She was starting to get really tired of this. Just how many secrets was he keeping? Privacy was one thing – she knew all about secrets herself – but this was getting ridiculous.

"It what?" she demanded, knowing some of her impatience was showing in her voice. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "It…_softens_ things. Like…barriers. Blood Magic is like a disease to the world itself, and when something is sick then it becomes weak…its defenses become…less."

Her mind worked very swiftly, making connections that had less to do with what he was actually saying and more to do with the fear she saw in his inked eyes. She'd only seen him scared like this once before. "You think the Tartarian gods are using Blood Magic to weaken the seal?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"It's possible, Raven. Too possible. This _has_ to be stopped at any cost. This Batman's pride is not a good enough reason to risk it." he stated.

"Batman is part of the Justice League and they've been dealing with things like this longer than any of us. I think that if he needs our help he'll contact us. But…I'll send him another e-mail." she said.

Malchior nodded, which she took as affirmation even though his eyes didn't appear at all satisfied.

"For now, though, I really need to meditate. So you can either promise to stay quiet and unobtrusive or I can shut you up in a closet." she told him.

"I will be silent." he promised. His paper body unwound itself like a mummy coming apart and the paper returned to the book's pages.

Raven levitated over her bed, folding her legs into the lotus position and taking a few deep breaths as she focused on relaxing her body first.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…"

(O)

"'Meditating. Do not disturb for any reason save a dire situation, else it soon will be.'" Rorek read aloud. Well, daanik. Did she meditate after every battle? One would think meditating before battle would be more beneficial. Obviously, though, these battles were not exactly scheduled.

"Yeah, she probably _would_ kill you. Even with waffles this time."

Rorek started and looked 'round to find Nightwing leaning against the wall with a far too knowing smirk on his face.

"Ah, Nightwing! I thought I'd…ask if she was hungry…for something." he managed. Nightwing's expression shifted only by one raised eyebrow. Rorek decided to change tact. "Is Lady Starfire indisposed?"

Nightwing's expression changed by more than an eyebrow that time. He clearly was not expecting that question. "She's, um, in the shower. Why do you ask?"

Now it was Rorek's turn to give his friend a knowing look. The two of them now entered a stalemate of sorts. Eventually the unspoken agreement of, 'I will not ask you if you do not ask me.' passed between them.

Finally Nightwing broke the pause with a cough. "Anyway…about Malchior," _Now that's one way to change a subject._ Rorek thought. "I just wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten. Also this is for you. It's an older version but you'll get the better ones if/when you're a full member."

It was a small disc-shaped object that fit quite comfortably in his palm. It was black and yellow with a large 'T' on the front and there were segments all around the outer rim. He recognized it as being some kind of technological device and felt the pit of his stomach drop. It seemed there truly was no way around this infernal technology thing. Now he was being _gifted_ with it.

"An older version of what?" Rorek asked.

Nightwing showed him a larger but thinner object that was rectangular and rather less interesting to look at. It was black and on the top-left corner there was a blue bird that had some strange glass eye in the middle of it. At the bottom right corner there was a white 'T'. He recognized the device. Raven had one much like it, though the bird decoration around her glass eye had a different shape and was described by a simple white border. "They're our communicators. A few years ago we only ever used them to keep in touch with each other as well as all the other Titans over long distances. Now they sort of do a bunch of other things. Yours is pretty basic, though. Maybe that's a good thing. Come on, I'll show you how to use it."

"How much can an object do when all it actually produces are pictures and sounds?" Rorek asked.

Nightwing's smile became fixed. "This might take a while."

(O)

It was evening before Raven came back out of her room. She hadn't used _all_ that time to meditate; some of it she spent on another lesson in Draconic with Malchior. Now, though, she felt it was about time to make another appearance.

A stray glance at the door to a certain recently-used bathroom reminded her of something she'd managed to forget once again. She went inside and tried to wash the makeup off. It didn't work, no matter how much soap she used. Oh well, nothing for it. Time to give Margaret a call.

The 29-year-old child picked up on the second ring. "Yes?" asked that chocolate voice.

"Hey Margaret, it's Raven. Listen; just how long is Eric's makeup and stuff suppose to last? It's not washing off." she asked.

"Um…well…it lasts for about as long as you want it to, I'm afraid." Margaret answered a bit sheepishly.

"What?-! But I've tried to wash it off several times now!" Raven exclaimed.

"Then you probably only _think_ you want it to come off. Or maybe in some weirdly psychological way you think you should want it to come off but really you don't. Sorry. I'm afraid you're stuck with it until either the magic runs out or you have a serious reason to remove it. And since you're a magic-user yourself I wouldn't count on the former any time soon 'cause it'll probably feed off your own power for a while." Margaret told her.

Raven sighed and hung her head in defeat. She'd like to deny it, but she had meditated just recently so all the little lies she'd been trying to tell herself had come out and she knew better. She _did_ like it. It made her feel…well…not like Starfire. She could _never_ be like Starfire. She didn't like attention, Starfire basked in it. But there were times when, perhaps, she'd been just a _little_ envious of how much everyone loved the Tamaranian powerhouse while she was pushed aside. Admittedly she preferred it that way. She wouldn't be able to stand it at all if their roles were reversed. But…but…

Maybe, just maybe, just a few times, it'd be nice _not_ to be ignored? To _not_ be the creepy girl that people avoided in case she was catching.

Malchior and Rorek weren't avoiding her, though. _They_ didn't think she was creepy. And if they did then obviously they either didn't mind or found it attractive in some way. Rorek certainly gave her far more attention than Starfire…

She really shouldn't be thinking about them, though. Hadn't she just been meditating to get all that cleared out? At this rate she was going to have to do it twice in one day!

"Thanks, Margaret." Raven sighed. She said goodbye and hung up.

There was nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty, was there? Only, _why_ did she want to look pretty again? She really _didn't_ enjoy a lot of attention so attracting it was simply masochistic. But maybe Starfire had it all figured out. Maybe the only reason you needed was that you _wanted_ to look pretty. It didn't have to be _for_ anything or anyone but yourself. Maybe she could get use to this…though her hair was _definitely_ not staying like this. That wave looked nice and all but she, personally, preferred it straight.

If only there was a way she could keep the makeup for just herself and have the rest of the world operate as though it wasn't there.

Starfire's own hair and makeup hadn't changed at all despite her shower. She'd taken out the braids, but somehow they had wound themselves back in when her hair dried and she was just as sparkly as she had been right after coming out of Eric's salon. Raven couldn't help wondering what was going to happen to the plants should she decide to do some gardening in this state. She was currently in the kitchen area with an earth cookbook at the ready. She was measuring things out with almost religious care and was constantly referring back to the page she had open as though hoping the recipe might have somehow changed and mustard _was_ included somewhere after all.

Cyborg and Beast Boy were on the sofa playing video games (who's surprised?), while Nightwing and Rorek were sitting at the dinner table doing something with an old Titan communicator. Raven realized it was probably Rorek's now. This assumption was confirmed when she heard a bit of Nightwing's careful explanation of the contacts feature.

"Alright, now these are all your—no wait! Don't press anything!"

"Er, oops?"

"Hello?" came a familiar voice from the communicator. And then, in a much different tone, "_Hey_ there, what's your name?"

Rorek's eyes were wide. "I…er…"

Nightwing leaned over so he could be seen by the other as well. "Sorry, Argent. He's new. I've been trying to teach him how to use the communicators but he's not very familiar with technology."

"No worries. He's hot." she said.

"Actually, M'Lady, my first element is water, typically in its frozen form." Rorek explained.

Raven and Argent both chuckled.

"Funny too. Call me up anytime. Looks like I've got to go now, though. London Bridge is falling down. _Again_." Argent told them with a deep sigh.

"What, seriously?" Nightwing asked.

"Of course. You don't honestly think America is the only country that has problems with its bridges, do you? Catch you later, handsome." she said.

"Well…she was friendly." Rorek said, closing the communicator slowly and carefully.

"I think she was flirting with you. And you didn't even tell her your name, shame on you." Raven said, wagging a playful finger at him. She then turned and completely missed the look of long-suffering that Rorek turned on Nightwing as well as Nightwing's sympathetic shrug. "What are you fixing, Star?" she asked.

"Cupcakes!" Starfire answered. "Would you like to assist, Friend Raven?" she asked hopefully.

"Um…" Raven began, her eyes wide. Starfire was the only one on this planet who _liked_ Raven's cooking. And so she could not seem to understand just why it was that Raven avoided doing so at every opportunity. "Actually I…um…would really like to eat something you made yourself!" she invented wildly. "Yeah, um, if I help it won't be as special."

"Oh of course!"

Raven wasn't the only one breathing a silent sigh of relief at the narrow escape. She flopped down on one of the couches along the side walls and pulled out her book.

After a while the smell of the cupcakes began to waft through the living room. They smelled surprisingly good and when they came out of the oven they _looked_ good as well. The Titans were all crowding around the kitchen with dual feelings of interest and wariness. Starfire's cooking had a history that _nearly_ rivaled Raven's own. Except in Starfire's case the cooking was _good_, just not for people with only one stomach.

Nightwing was the first to try one. The others watched him intently for signs of enjoyment or, as the case might be, death. Fortunately the later did not appear to be forthcoming. "Hey, these are really good, Star!" he said. Starfire beamed happily.

And then it was time to chow down.

Once most of the cupcakes had been eaten and the mess cleaned up Nightwing gave Rorek a meaningful look that no one else quite understood. Rorek then nodded and excused himself promptly from the living room. Nightwing turned to the remaining Titans, who were now very curious. "We need to talk." he began. "All of us." though his eyes strayed to Raven in particular. "It's about Malchior…"

(O)

Nightwing told them that, according to Rorek, Malchior could be bound in his human form and would have less power like that. However, the Titans decided that if they let Malchior free it would be without a binding or not at all. True, having a gigantic dragon hanging around the tower was very likely to cause _comment_ and certain parties might just get the wrong idea; but somehow the idea of _forcing_ Malchior to stay human didn't sit well with any of them. It felt like keeping a bird in a cage and then hanging the cage outside as if to taunt it with what it didn't have anymore. Besides, if it turned out Malchior _couldn't_ be trusted then Raven could deal with him with or without Rorek. She'd seal him back in the book and he wouldn't get another chance. End of story.

They decided they would do it tomorrow. That would give them enough time to get his room ready so he didn't have to sleep on the couch. So Raven went back to her room feeling…strange. She wasn't entirely sure how to broach the subject. 'Oh by the way, guess what! I know I said I'd never let you out of that book again but, well, changed my mind and we'll be freeing you tomorrow, isn't that nice?' Um, no.

She also wasn't entirely sure how she felt about this. She probably ought to meditate a bit more first but, no, this couldn't wait.

"I would like for the Malchior to be able to join us…" Starfire had forwarded hesitantly when Nightwing had had his say and the conversation became open for discussion. "I have been most anxious for him but feared Friend Rorek's anger should he know of our friendship."

"I want him back too. Rorek sucks at video games! Well, Malchior's not all that great either, but he was catching on pretty quick for a renaissance dude. _And_ he was funny! Rorek just kinda…fails." Beast Boy complained.

"I'm all for it, but only if you are, Raven." Cyborg had said.

"It's up to you, Raven." Nightwing had stated.

And so, she'd given her affirmation.

But what was going to happen afterwards? Malchior was going to be walking around the tower as a man. A man who, he had indicated, would look exactly like Rorek in every way save color. She had been unable to keep herself from imagining what those color differences might be. For some reason she liked to think of him with dark skin, red hair, and amber eyes. Then maybe his armor would be black while his bodysuit was red and he'd have red-black spellfire…

She needed to stop that. She really did. She'd told him that her old feelings for him had gone and that was true; what she was starting to feel now was something entirely new.

And it did _not help_ that she was starting to think of Rorek too!

No. The safest thing to do was to stick with friendship. She could love them both as friends and there would be no risky situations; no danger of losing them. Safe, simple, and fulfilling…mostly fulfilling. She could live with it, anyway.

She entered her room and closed the door behind her. Malchior was staying in his book at present since she didn't see the paper man anywhere. A yawn escaped her before she could stop it. It'd been a long day. She decided to get ready for bed and took off her cloak, belt, boots, and then removed the ponytail from her head. "Malchior?"

"Yes, Raven?"

"There's…something I need to talk to you about."

"Can you tell me in the dreamscape? You look very tired."

"I suppose. Yeah, that would probably be a good idea." she decided. She slipped into bed and laid down. She shifted around a bit in order to get comfortable but part of her felt restless.

Some time passed but she was having trouble getting properly asleep. She kept hovering somewhere between awake and a restful state that wasn't quite dreaming and wasn't quite sleeping. After a while of this she found herself on her stomach – a position that had stopped being comfortable at around the age of 12. But for some reason she didn't want to move. Part of her realized that she'd somehow arranged the pillows just so that she wasn't being, well, squished. She still had quite a few of them from that night she'd grabbed a bunch from the linen closet.

And then another part of her realized that there was a paper man on the bed next to her and he was using what weight he possessed in this body to kneed her back – an act that was doing a lot more to relax her than any amount of frustrated grumbling about needing sleep had achieved. She was mildly aware that she should probably have a problem with this, but it felt so good…

(O)

**Her tiny hands wouldn't do much of anything to a creature whose eyes were bigger than her head, so she crafted a large black hand made of spellfire and used _it_ to slap him. "Get your hands off my back and your paper body off my bed!" she snapped.**

**Malchior grinned. And a dragon could really grin, she found. In fact, it was amazing just how much expression that scaly arrow-shaped face had. Somehow when people put dragons in movies or games they left out the notion that such beings probably had as many facial muscles as humans, if not more. He didn't need them to speak, though. Apparently dragons had several vocal cords in multiple larynxes that did all the work the human mouth, lips, and tongue did. This was why they did not move their lips when they spoke. But it made sense that a race with the same cognitive capabilities as humans would develop flexible facial muscles so that they could incorporate visual expression into their communication.**

"**You are so tense, though. Meditation doesn't appear capable of getting rid of knots. Besides, you weren't able to sleep beforehand." he told her.**

"**Wait, are you still massaging my back?-! How are you doing that and sitting here at the same time?" she demanded.**

"**A body cannot be in two places at once but the same is not true for a mind. People do it all the time. It's called daydreaming."**

"**That can't be easy."**

"**I've had practice. One can teach one's self a lot with over a thousand years of free time. Anyway, you had something you wished to talk to me about?" he reminded her.**

"**Yes…" well, here goes. She took a deep breath. "We're going to set you free…again." Malchior's expression seemed to freeze up (or so she assumed, she wasn't too good at judging dragon expressions yet). He gave her one slow blink. "That is, we sort of plan to give you a second chance provided you agree to follow a few guidelines…um…Rorek suggested it." she added, pretty sure that was, more or less, the answer to his next question.**

"**Yes…I suppose he would." Malchior muttered, turning his head away so he wasn't quite looking at her.**

**That wasn't exactly the reaction she'd been expecting. She stared at the dragon and tried to figure out why it was he seemed so…dejected. She flew over to him and hovered next to one glowing red eye so he didn't exactly have a choice but to see her. "What's wrong?"**

"**You agreed to this?" he asked.**

"**Yes, I did. What's wrong?"**

"**I assume there will be a tether or leash of some sort?" he asked.**

"**Leash? Well Rorek suggested we bind you to your human form but the rest of the Titans are against it. I sealed you in the book once. If you decide to do the rampaging dragon bit again then I'll do it again and you won't be coming back out, ever. Is that enough of a tether for you?" she asked.**

"**For me? Certainly. Rorek will never agree to it, however. He will demand that there be some form of binding; something to ensure I do not simply fly away." he said.**

"**How about a home?" she asked.**

**Malchior's eyes widened. "A home?"**

"**Cyborg and Beast Boy are going to fix up a room for you tomorrow. It won't be much, but we can see about getting you some personal effects later on." she said.**

**He drew back slightly so he could turn his head and stare at her with both eyes. "Home…with you?"**

**She nodded. "And the others."**

**He sat down and his eyes cast about the wide grassy field of his dreamscape dimension. There was a forest in the distance, and some mountains farther away. To the other side there were large stones, and high above them a bright blue sky cast down light with no sun.**

"**I had a home once…" he murmured to the air. "A castle. It was big…empty…quiet…lonely…perhaps it was not so much a home as the place I slept, took my meals, and laid out my gold."**

"**So it's true about dragons and their gold?" Raven asked.**

"**Oh yes. Precious metals and stones sing to our minds and none more so than gold." he told her. "Personally I had a preference for the harsher tones of iron and lead, but gold was traditional. One has to keep up appearances." he answered.**

"**Do you miss your stones and metals much?" she asked.**

"**No. I still have them, though I can't exactly feel them properly in this form. I laid them out in my castle, that does not mean I _left_ them there when I went away. I was quite a powerful dragon in my time, Raven. I and many others of my ilk possessed what you might call 'sub-space pockets'. Ones that do not require any enchanted objects to use but simply cling to us until we die." He chuckled. "Where do you think I kept all those books I materialized into your room four years ago?" he asked.**

"**I did wonder about that…" she admitted. "You could probably use some of that gold to buy things for your room. Books, posters, paintings…whatever you want."**

"**I think I'd rather like the paintings that you have hung in your room. Who is the artist, by the way? I can tell they were all done by the same hand and I'm a bit curious."**

**Now it was Raven's turn to look away. "My…mother painted them."**

"**Oh. She's very good."**

"**She was, yes."**

"**Ah." he said, his tone understanding. He sighed deeply. "I think Rorek is going to require something a bit more substantial than the lure of a home." he told her.**

"**Rorek's suggestion regarding your 'tether' has been taken into consideration and denied." Raven stated primly. "This is how we're doing it. If Rorek has a problem with it then he is welcome to lodge any complaints he might have with my hand."**

**Five minutes later…**

"**Good grief, Malchior. It wasn't _that_ funny." Though she couldn't help but feel gratified. She was still dipping her toes into this whole sense of humor thing so it was nice to know she wasn't as bad at it as she'd thought she'd be.**

"**I disagree!" he exclaimed, but he was calming down. He coughed. "My apologies. I keep imagining what Rorek's reaction might be to the first time a beautiful sorceress tells him to talk to her hand. It is incredibly amusing."**

"**Well, maybe you'll get to witness it in person." she told him.**

**Malchior sobered and his previous mirth seemed to vanish as though it'd never existed. He sighed deeply. "Raven…would you be particularly disappointed if I…declined?"**

**She stared at him. This wasn't at _all_ how she thought this'd go. "_Declined_?" she demanded incredulously. "Malchior, I don't understand. Don't you _want_ to be free?"**

**He looked away from her once again. "Once, yes. It was all I wanted. But now…not so much." he told her. "It is…difficult to explain."**

"**Is it because of Rorek?" she asked.**

"**I would be lying if I said he had nothing to do with it." he answered. "I would also be lying if I told you I hadn't been half hoping for this for a while now despite knowing I had no right to expect it. But now…" He shook his head. "I am…conflicted. Part of me wishes for freedom but another part, a larger part, does not. I do not know…perhaps I want a tether or leash of some sort; perhaps I have been trapped for so long that freedom is frightening. I…I simply do not wish to leave. Not now. Can't I simply stay like this? With you? Just a little longer?" he asked her.**

**She flew forward and touched the scales under one eye. "Alright." she said softly. "I'm sure the others will understand. Except Beast Boy. Apparently he's getting frustrated trying to teach video games to Rorek. He wants you back." she said.**

**Malchior smiled (or so she assumed). "Let me guess: Pretty Boy Dragon Slayer is a hopeless case?"**

"**He is having some difficulty with modern technology, yes. And anyway, who are you to be calling him a 'Pretty Boy'? Don't you look exactly like him?"**

"**Perhaps, though I like to think my coloring makes me less pretty and more masculine." he answered.**

**Hmm, golden eyes, dark skin, and red hair would definitely do it in her mind. But she gave him a challenging smirk and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh yeah? Prove it."**

**It wasn't like watching Beast Boy transform where everything turned into a sort of green putty that squeezed down or filled out to whatever shape he wanted. Instead it was sort of like watching a very large quantity of black and violet smoke being sucked into a vacuum only to stop just before all of it disappeared. And there he was.**

**Well, most all the colors she'd imagined were there…they just weren't in the places she thought they'd be.**

**His hair was black, his eyes were red, his skin was pale as the moon, and his armor was a golden bronze – though his bodysuit had stayed black. All in all, she had to agree that he was right. The coloring made a _big_ difference. It did not say 'pretty' the way Rorek's might. What it said was 'danger' and a score of other words she really didn't want to think too clearly about. In fact she was having to be very careful _not_ to think too hard about the difference because if she did then the words, 'I think I like the real version better than mine' would undoubtedly pop into her head. But she pretended to give him a critical look and toyed with the idea of teasing him a little. She decided against it.**

**She let out a sigh of defeat. "Alright, you win. The word 'pretty' could not be used to describe you as easily as it could Rorek." she told him.**

**He chuckled. "Good to know." he drew up next to her but she pretended not to notice. Instead she pointed to the mountains off in the distance.**

"**Are those full mountains or does it only look like there are mountains in the distance?" she asked.**

"**They have detail, yes." he answered cautiously.**

"**Can I go look?" she asked.**

"**I don't think that would be a good idea." he told her. "You need to stay in the circle."**

"**What would happen if I left?" she asked.**

"**You would start to hear their voices again." he answered quietly.**

"**What, here? I thought you said they couldn't follow me here!"**

"**I said they _wouldn't_. I was wrong." he told her solemnly. "You need to stay in the circle." he repeated.**

**She nodded, but took another look at the circle. She still didn't understand why or how it was working, but if it was keeping gods from talking to her when they obviously wanted to then it had to be powerful.**

**Right?**

**And then something occurred to her. "Malchior,"**

"**Mmm?"**

"**This isn't the real reason you don't want to be free, is it?" she asked.**

"**No…it's only one of them." he admitted, looking slightly guilty. "Dreamscapes need physical containers. Since I do not technically have a brain at present then its current container is the book and once I am free we will no longer be able to use it. I could make another one, of course. But it'd take a few days. Perhaps it is time for me to teach you how to craft your own. We will have to put your Draconic lessons on hold for a while." he told her.**

**She nodded. "Alright."**

"**For now, Fair Maiden," he began, taking up one of her hands and bowing over it, "I think tis time for you to rest."**

**When Raven flew down and settled into a bed of soft grass she was half afraid that Malchior would try to lay down next to her in his human form as a joke. Fortunately he didn't. He returned to the dragon shape and curled around her without another word, his wing coming over to block the strange sunless light of his dreamscape.**

(O)

The other Titans took the news as well as could be expected.

"Does the Malchior not like us anymore? (Sniff)"

"Aw maaaaaan! I was totally gonna set up Mega Monkeys Ultima in his room! Tell him about the Banana Peel house! Maybe that'll get him out. It's a house made _entirely_ of banana peels!"

"So now he _doesn't_ want out of the book? Dude, I just don't get this guy!"

Yeah…

The one who surprised her the most was Rorek. Unlike the others _he_ didn't seem baffled by this odd behavior. Instead he seemed…well, angry.

"It's me, isn't it?" he asked, abruptly halting the questions and confused exclamations.

"I think you're part of the reason, yes, but there are others." she admitted.

"I want to speak to him." he said.

"I…I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to talk to you," she began awkwardly.

"I'm sure that we could reach some sort of accord." he insisted.

"I'll tell him you want a word, but that's all I can promise." she said.

He shook his head. "It won't work. He'll refuse if he thinks he has a choice."

"He _does_ have a choice. If he says no, I'm not going to force the issue." she informed him.

"The two of us _need_ to talk about this; privately if possible."

"I will tell him you want to talk, but if he doesn't want to then it's not happening." she stated slowly and clearly.

"Then I'm afraid I must insist."

"Insist? You _can't_. The books are my property by both your laws and ours. You have no rights or grounds to insist upon in this matter." she informed him.

"Malchior is not property! He is a living sentient being, not your _pet_!" Rorek spat out, suddenly enraged.

"Women are living sentient beings, but, correct me if I'm wrong, that didn't stop _them_ from being property, did it?" Raven snapped back. "If I'm treating him like property then why am I the one insisting he have a choice in this matter?-!" she demanded. "Is he only allowed to be a sentient being when it suits you?-! Daanik hi. Naak oblaanpook, vazahnokgein!" she snarled.

Rorek recoiled as though she'd physically struck him. Maybe she had, in a way. She'd just cursed him, told him to eat…er…something unpleasant, and called him a hypocrite all in one go. But the Draconic words were thick and sticky. Even without using them in a Thu'um (which she didn't know how to do in any case) it felt like they had some sort of existence that went beyond the sound of the syllables themselves. Was it possible to deal actual physical damage, however little, with just the words?

She wasn't going to apologize, though. As far as she was concerned, Rorek could go stick his head in the mud.

Rorek, however, redeemed himself. He backed down, holding his hands up in supplication. "You…are right." he told her. "Forgive me. I am being foolish, immature, and, indeed, hypocritical. And…perhaps there is something you need to know. Something that Malchior obviously has not told you."

"If it's something he doesn't want me to know then I don't want to hear it. He's helped me a lot over the past few weeks. The least I can do is respect his need for privacy." she stated sternly.

"It is not his secret of which I speak. It is mine. He is involved, but it is still more mine than his because of what it means. I cannot imagine that there is any reason why he would not tell you save only that he wished to protect me." he said.

That floored all of them.

"Huh? Wait, _what_?-! Doesn't Malchior hate your guts?" Beast Boy asked.

"Why would he want to protect you?" Raven asked, completely blown by this.

"Because, my friends…he is my brother."

(8)

A/N: Dun, dun, DUN! Soooo…who saw that coming? (Raises hand)

Cat: Not fair, you're the author.

Drat…

For some reason I get this crazy feeling that, in the DCverse, London bridge would be such a huge target for mad super villains that the Titans Europe would find it necessary to keep it under constant surveillance. And yes, I know Argent is actually from New Zealand. I'M STICKING HER IN EUROPE 'CAUSE I'M THE AUTHOR AND I WANTS TO! So there.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Well, looks like nothing's burned! It must not have been that bad if no one got their flame on! Get it? Flame on? Huh?

Tomorrow's update of 'Squares' is gonna be awesome! :D


	16. Silfron

A/N: This chapter gave me a few issues while I was writing the draft (twitch, twitch). Don'tcha hate chapters like that? Well I'm happy enough with the way it turned out and I hope you like it too.

(8)

_In the end I was asked to leave Elti and the court of King Yord. Rumors had spread, and rumor was as it has always been. Regardless of the facts known by my fellow sorcerers as well as the king himself, the people of Elti suspected me of being responsible for the death of the Duke of Golt. Despite his lack of popularity he did have friends and they moved against me. A few even went so far as to demand my own death, but I had performed services too great and too numerous for this to even become a consideration. My departure was the easiest course of action and I did not argue overmuch._

_The only reason I truly wished to stay was for her, for Eulsmir, and deep down I knew my desire was not reciprocated despite the kisses we shared in dark corners and behind secret walls. I begged her to come with me during our last moment together, my lips on her neck and her fingers in my hair. But she refused me. Again and again I asked and pleaded and made promises I knew I would have kept whatever the cost. But when the time came for me to take my leave she was not there and I never saw her again._

_Something in me broke that day._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 16 – Silfron**

"We are twins, in fact." Rorek continued. "As I have told you before I lost my memories when I was young. I had no inclination, no knowledge of this for a long, long time. I will not go into detail. It is a long story, and a dark one. But…you must be aware of what this means."

"Yeah man! You trapped your own brother in a book!" Cyborg exclaimed.

"I _think_ what he's trying to tell us is that he's a dragon." Raven stated with more calm than she really felt. Brothers, _twins_ even! She couldn't believe this! Malchior told her they looked alike because he'd been trapped in Rorek's diary but it was a lie! He'd _lied_ to her…lied to protect Rorek. She felt strange, like she was sick for something and she wasn't sure why or what it was. Too many things going through her head…

She needed to talk to Malchior about this and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to yell, cry, or hug him and tell him everything was alright. Emotions were so confusing! It would be so much easier if thoughts and emotions were separate but it seemed as though your emotions did a lot of your thinking for you even as your thinking pulled up your emotions. She'd tried to separate the two but it just didn't work. For now, though, she decided to lock them up and deal with them later.

Rorek nodded. "Indeed…it is a secret I have kept for a very long time and practically everyone I knew back in my life before the book never discovered it. I have…reason to believe that my amnesia was self-induced in an attempt to escape…something."

_Their mother._ Raven realized, remembering what little Malchior had told her about all that. She must have been really bad for Rorek to go that far, though.

"But…" Rorek tried to continue, and then he faltered.

"But it meant you forgot Malchior as well." Nightwing deduced.

Rorek hung his head and didn't say anything. It was answer enough.

"This…does change things, Raven." Nightwing told her. She nodded. Yes it did. It very much did.

"I'll go talk to Malchior."

(O)

"He's your brother." she said it in a flat, dead tone of voice. It was the tone she used when there were so many emotions raging within that she simply put them away to face the issue at hand. It was almost unnerving the way she could do that. He envied that ability sometimes, but more often (like now) he simply wished it didn't exist.

Malchior looked at her for a long time, trying to figure out what emotions she had locked up. It was no use, though. He could guess, but that was all he could do when she got like this. She was probably mad that he'd lied again. Oh well.

"Twins." he muttered, not looking at her. "Which is a bit different for dragons than it is humans. For humans it means that the two children were born at the same time. For dragons it is a bit deeper. We are what is called 'silfron'. It means we were born from the same egg, not simply at the same time." he explained.

"You lied to me to protect him. Why? Did you think we'd think less of him?" she asked.

"No, but it wasn't my secret to give." he answered. "He believed he was human for a long time, despite his oddly extended youth. He would not have been at all happy with me had I told. I'm not exactly the best of brothers, Raven. I figured I could at least keep his secrets and let him tell you when he was ready."

She nodded. She understood. And then a rather strange emotion seeped into her gaze. "He wants to talk to you." she told him gently.

"No."

"I think you should."

"I don't want to, Raven."

"He's your brother."

"That doesn't mean I have to like him."

"I'm not asking you to like him. Just to talk. Please?"

He stared at her. Concern, that was the emotion in her eyes. It gripped him tightly. Oh Maartuz, why couldn't this have happened before the makeup? She did not need the makeup; she was plenty beautiful enough without it. But _with_ it she was a goddess – though no goddess would ever say 'please' like that. He wanted to say 'no' but…he sighed in defeat. He probably wouldn't have been able to refuse her anyway – makeup or no.

"For you, not for him. I'll talk to him, but no more." he said.

Raven smiled.

It'd been a long time since she'd smiled at him like that.

(O)

"You're…made of paper."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Ha ha."

"It's a spell." Raven explained shortly. "I'm putting a muffling barrier around the room. I'd silence it completely but I'm thinking it'd be a good idea to make sure we can at least hear any loud noises." She explained.

"Understood. Thank you." Rorek said as she walked towards the door.

"No magic and no physical contact." Raven stated from the doorway. "That means no paper cuts."

"Oh come on! Just a small one?" Malchior begged.

"You're here to talk, not brawl. I'll be back in half an hour." she told them.

"What is a paper cut?" Rorek asked her.

"Here, let me show you!" Malchior tried.

"Malchior," Raven warned.

"Alright, alright. No physical contact. Got it." he sighed. Raven closed the door.

(O)

"So…we're just leaving them in there?" Beast Boy asked uncomfortably.

"I have several protections on the book and Malchior can't do much in his paper body. They might smack each other a little but that's about it." Raven answered.

"Right…hey where are you going?"

"The kitchen. I'm hungry."

"Don't you think you should stay and, you know, listen for loud noises?"

"What am I, their babysitter?" Raven grumbled. "I've done what I can. The rest is up to them."

She was in the middle of a fruit salad when she started hearing…no, _feeling_ the roar. There were no words that she could distinguish, and she was aware that the sound wasn't finding its way into her brain via her ears. She paused a moment and, for lack of a better word, listened. She could distinguish two 'voices' and they were both angry. Other than that…

"What is it?" Nightwing asked her.

"Do you feel that?" she asked him.

"Feel what?"

"I guess that answers that question." she mused. Should she do something?

"What are you feeling?" Nightwing asked.

"Rorek and Malchior are yelling at each other in Draconic. Are you sure you don't feel anything?"

"No, nothing. Should we interfere?"

"Nah. I think I'd be able to tell if either of them were feeling murderous. Besides I think they're calming down now." she answered.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" Nightwing asked, amazed.

"No, I just sort of…_feel_ the voices. I'm not sure how to explain it." she answered.

When 30 minutes had passed she returned to the spare room they were using. She knocked to announce herself and then opened the door. She half expected to walk in and see or hear something weird, embarrassing, and/or contextually awkward. So it was almost disappointing to see Malchior was just leaning against the wall next to his book staring fixedly out the window and Rorek sitting at a spare desk looking at nothing. They weren't talking and the air felt gloomy and troubled.

Raven knew better than to try and 'lighten the mood'. Difficult as it was to deal with, the last thing this sort of situation needed was some absolute idiot waltzing in with an big awkward grin and a _joke_ that wasn't really funny.

"Well, looks like nothing's burned! It must not have been that bad if no one got their flame on! Get it? Flame on? Huh?"

Raven twitched and allowed Beast Boy just a moment to realize he should have kept his big mouth shut before she teleported him away. They heard the muffled sound of him yelling at his sudden lack of solid ground some ways to the left and on the _other_ side of the glass window.

"That was a bit…extreme. He was only trying to help…in his own way." Rorek said awkwardly. Malchior was chuckling, though, and could probably even see Beast Boy at his angle.

"He can fly." Raven responded carelessly. She walked over to Malchior and picked up the book. She thought he'd just follow her back to her room in his paper form but instead he unwound himself and the soft parchment slipped back into the pages of the book. It was strange how they were able to do that even though the book was closed. But Malchior somehow had the power to manipulate the parchment in ways far beyond just working the ink around.

She glanced over at Rorek but he wasn't looking at her so she just slipped out of the room carrying the book. Malchior was silent on the way to her room and stayed silent even after she closed the door behind her. She set him down on the book stand she'd recently retrieved from the chaos that was her closets and he reemerged as the paper man.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him.

"…Not really…" he admitted. He went on anyway. "We tried to talk…but it turned into yelling." he told her. He sighed. "It usually does."

"Are you…angry at him for forgetting you?" she asked.

For a moment he seemed confused. "Forgetting me?"

"His amnesia; forgetting everything that came before the things he wrote in his book." she reminded him.

"Oh, that." Malchior gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. "No, that never bothered me. I'd have done the same given half the chance." he told her with a shrug. "We both escaped our mother. Compared to that feat the immediate aftermath seemed a small matter."

"But you were separated. You told me that being silfron was a bit deeper than being twins. What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means that what was originally one body became two instead. Some believe this means we are the same soul with two bodies. I don't know. I tend to doubt it. I don't really know much about souls. Then again, who does?" he mused, not looking at her.

She reached out and touched his arm. "Didn't it hurt?" she asked softly.

"Yes…but I left him first." he murmured.

"Oh…"

His eyes were full of guilt. Suddenly she felt she understood something but wasn't quite sure what, specifically, that something was.

"Was she really that bad? Your mother I mean?" she asked quietly.

"She was not called 'The Putrid One' for no reason, Raven." he ground out. She could feel him tense, his paper becoming taut around his hollow shape.

She shouldn't do this, it was dangerous and she knew it. But he was hurting and she hated it. She told herself she would have done this for any of the others; Cyborg, Nightwing, Beast Boy, Starfire. And she would have if it'd been any of them. But she couldn't deny that she liked the way his parchment chest felt against her cheek when she hugged him, or the way his arms, after hesitating from surprise, wrapped around her in return and clung to her as tightly as his paper body could manage.

"It'll be alright." she murmured. "It's all in the past now; very, very far in the past. The both of you can work through this, and we'll help if we can." she told him, pulling away so she could look up into his face.

It was amazing how much emotion a pair of inked eyes could convey. They bore into her with an unnatural intensity, his hands still clutching at her cape. "Raven…I…"

_**BWEEEP! BWEEEP! BWEEEP!**_

"…am going to _kill_ that siren." he finished in an irate growl.

Raven laughed and slipped out of his grasp. She pulled her hood up over her head. "Duty calls." she said. "Though if you had a body you could join us."

"Tempting. I wonder what the reaction of your enemies might be should they realize their activities would now mean facing the flaming maw of an angry dragon." he mused.

"Yeah, you'd probably have to stick with the human shape." she told him.

"Party pooper."

She laughed again – not least because of the way his British accent shaped the American term – and rushed to join the others.

(O)

The H. I. V. E. Five had been making trouble again, but either Rorek was getting better at using his magic in flight and against non-mages or they were just simply out of sorts ever since Jinx left because they weren't hard to deal with.

Rorek himself wasn't talking much and Nightwing kept shooting him worried looks in the T-car. Since the car had yet to be redesigned to disregard certain fundamental laws of physics like the T-ship had, Beast Boy was riding as a cat in Starfire's lap. Raven – for reasons that Nightwing had better have a good explanation for later – had somehow gotten stuck in the middle seat rather than one of the window seats as was her norm. It wasn't that she had a problem with either Starfire or Rorek, she just didn't like being hemmed in like this.

When they got back to the tower Rorek went to his room without speaking or looking at anyone. Raven was worried. She was debating on whether or not she should go talk to him when Nightwing put a hand on her shoulder.

"Could you…talk to him?" he asked her quietly.

Oh the irony. But now that the question was being put to her by someone else it made her wonder. "Are you sure? I'm not certain he'd want to talk to me. I am, more or less, standing between him and his brother." she said.

"Actually you're the only thing bridging the gap between them. Malchior wouldn't have talked to Rorek at all if you hadn't asked him to." he told her. "I think Rorek is hoping you might be willing to help."

Raven nodded. "I'll help." she stated.

(O)

Rorek sighed softly when he heard the knock on his door. Undoubtedly it was Nightwing returning to continue the conversation that the Titans' duty had interrupted. Now, however, he felt he didn't much want to talk anymore. He hoped his friend would understand his wish to be alone at present. He was therefore surprised when he opened the door. Pleasantly surprised.

Raven stood there. Her cloak was down across her front but her hood was down as well so he had an unobstructed view of her eyes. They were brought out by the dark makeup around them and they were absolutely stunning. One had to be close to see the many different shades of blue and violet that made up the irises so that, from afar, they might look like one or the other. The texture of color was fascinating enough, but there was an emotion in those eyes that caught him up; concern. She was concerned for him. That was _not_ an emotion he was particularly familiar with. He had very rarely seen in the eyes of a powerful sorceress, and never in one as young, potent, and beautiful as she. He felt like the world was turning upside-down and still turning, pivoting upon this sorceress.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked him sincerely.

_Yes, Lady. Yes, yes, and a thousand times yes._ To have in this woman the same council and companionship that he had found in Nightwing was something he felt he'd give almost anything to obtain. All thoughts of being alone forgotten, he nodded to her and stepped aside to invite her into his room. His heart seemed to pause a moment as he entertained the fear that, perhaps, she might not wish to be in such a private place as his quarters. But she entered without hesitation and took stock of her surroundings.

He had decorated a bit since being given the room. No curious wizardly items, but there were some personal effects carried over the centuries through the strange powers of sub-space which he had arraigned in his room in aesthetically pleasing ways. He preferred his lights bright so that the jeweled goblets, spheres, candle sticks, and other assorted items would glitter and shine as they were supposed to. He had many books, but even though he did not currently have as many shelves for them as Raven did, his shelves seemed to contain more curious and glittering items than hers. He had tapestries on the walls, embroidered silk curtains across his window, and an intricately woven carpet upon the floor. The colors were bright, but not obtrusive. He had far more treasure than this, but he had a good eye for the decorative and knew when too much was too much. That was why neither Raven's nor his own monochromatic garb were completely out of place here (though they didn't quite seem to belong either).

Ru was currently curled up on a silk cushion with dark gold braid around the edges and seemed to be dozing peacefully. She opened an eye when Raven came in but closed it again and shifted into another position on the cushion.

Rorek waited, only mildly aware that he wasn't breathing as deeply as he probably should be. Finally the Lady seemed to have finished her observations and turned to him. "Malchior told me that precious metals sing to dragons. What's that like?" she asked him.

"It is like seeing brilliance in your mind that none of your other senses put there. There's music without notes, colors without light. We feel physical things with a bit more depth than humans, but during our early years we become desensitized to all the small things like the pulsing life of grass and the grinding of soil against stone. Certain metals and stones do not fade, however. Gold is the traditional favorite. It is a siren rainbow in the mind; bright and warm. Like a sun that gives warmth to your thoughts rather than skin." he explained.

"Did anyone in your life as a human ever think you strange for liking the metals so much?" she asked.

"Certainly not. The love of gold is common enough among men. I fit right in." he told her with a shrug.

She smiled a little. "Of course, silly me." but then the smile vanished far too swiftly. "Your…talk with Malchior…"

He sighed deeply. "Once upon a time we could talk. In fact, once upon a time we were so close we didn't even need words. Now, even a thousand years later, we just shout at one another. And they are not the most…mature of arguments either. 'You trapped me in a book, you prick!', 'Yes well you were burning down villages, you bastard!', 'They attacked me first, sloth-breath!', 'Right, and farming implements are so threatening to you, are they, toad-face?', and so on."

"'Toad-face'? Aren't you twins?" she asked.

"Yes, obviously I did not think that one through." he answered with a small smile. Her own smile came back and she chuckled. "And that wasn't the worst of them either, I'm afraid." he told her. "Still, name-calling is better than all the battles we had before I sealed him into the book." He sighed. "He's changed, Raven. He's changed a lot and for the better. But…"

"There's still a lot of…bad blood between you?" she deduced.

"He did a lot of bad things, Raven. Powerful people wanted him dead. I had to do something even though I knew he'd hate me for it. He had to be stopped." he told her.

Who was he trying to convince? Her or himself?

"You feel guilty." It was not a question. And she was right.

Rorek stared down at the carpet. It seemed easier than looking at her. "In my mind I didn't have a choice. But Malchior would say that there is always a choice, even if the alternative was to either kill him or let him die by another's hand. Either way he'd be dead and I…could not bear the thought. I could not simply let him die, no matter how much I had grown to hate him for the things he did." he told her.

"And yet you still feel guilty."

"Perhaps I should have let him die." he said, turning agonized eyes to her. "Perhaps we should have both simply died. Would it have been better than this? Worse? Would he have preferred death to the thousand years of imprisonment he's suffered? Would it have been better had I allowed my pursuers to simply kill me rather than have Madam Crow hide me in my grimoire? I slept, dormant and unaware, for much of the time. Bits and pieces of the changing times bled into my subconscious as I dreamed, but for the most part it was like a very long sleep. Suddenly I woke and I simply _knew_ that I had been sleeping in the grimoire for centuries. But for him…he's been aware all this time. I cannot imagine what that must have been like. And it is my fault. Could I not have at least given him the dormancy that I was granted?" He sighed. "I cannot blame him for hating me. Not after so long trapped in a book…alone…"

"I don't think he hates you." she murmured. "I think he regrets the past as much as you do, and he just hates how your being here brings all those memories back." she explained. "I think…I think he just needs some time to get use to your return. I think the two of you can put all of this in the past where it belongs, but it's not going to be easy and it's not going to happen all at once."

"I think we are going to need your help." he confessed. "I hate to ask this of you, but…he speaks to you, he trusts you. I don't know if you realize just how monumental that is for him." he told her.

"I will help if I can." she promised. "Will you trust me as well?" she asked him.

He stared into her eyes. Her soft, honest eyes; kind and understanding. Suddenly he wanted to tell her everything – all of it, from start to finish. But his throat closed up and his own thoughts screamed at him that it was just a ruse, that she was just trying to get close to him and she would rip out his heart like all the others. He fought this voice with all his might, _knowing_ that it lied. He wanted to tell her about the green dragon, about Vergonda, the court of Nahl, of Hrunting, and of Madam Crow. Not all of it had been bad; there had been…friends, of a sort – though certainly not of the sort he was facing now. There had been smiles and laughter. Sometimes he had found peace even if it only lasted a short while. And he wanted to tell her but…but…

_Not safe, not safe, not safe! Don't tell! You've spoken enough! Don't talk! Stay safe._

But he could trust her, and he knew this more deeply than she could possibly guess. He nodded. "Malchior never trusted anyone save me, and even then it was for a short time. And yet he trusts you. Who am I to doubt you? Tell me what I should do."

"He needs time. He wants to stay in his prison because it is safe and familiar to him but he doesn't intend to stay there forever. Give him space. Perhaps when we try this again there won't be quite as much shouting." she answered.

"Or name-calling?" he offered, wanting to lighten the mood. It worked, she smiled.

"Actually I think the name-calling might be entertaining. But if you think you can survive without it you're welcome to try." she answered.

He chuckled lightly and then sobered up. "Thank you, Lady Raven." he told her. "You and the other Titans have already done so much for the both of us. I hope one day we might be able to repay you."

"We're not doing this for payment." she informed him, but there was no rancor in her manner.

"And yet it is owed all the more for that." He took her by the hand he managed to fish out of her only slightly parted cape and kissed the blue stone on top through the cloth of his cowl. "If it is not too selfish of me; I cannot help but be glad things worked out this way. I would never have met you otherwise." He looked up in time to see the flush on her cheeks just before it faded away. She somehow seemed to be…drawing back. Not physically, but…hmmm…

"There's no changing the past. At least you can be happy with the present." she mused, taking her hand back.

"Indeed." he said, standing up straight.

Hmmm…Perhaps he was making more of an impression than he thought. Perhaps he just didn't see it because of the way she closed herself up like this. She was _hiding_ from him. Meaning there was something there to be hidden. He fought to keep the smile off his face, or at least away from his eyes.

And then something occurred to him.

"Raven," he began just as she seemed ready to excuse herself.

"Yes?"

He glanced at the door to make doubly sure it was closed and turned back to her. "Our little plan concerning Nightwing and Starfire," he began in a hushed voice. "We would be bringing Malchior with us, yes?"

She gave him a thoughtful look. "Mmm…yes, I had intended to. I just wasn't going to tell you at first. What are you thinking?"

"Something a bit convoluted, I confess." he answered with a smile. "I am thinking that, perhaps, I might suggest to Nightwing that the real reason we are leaving for this 'Stonehenge' place is as an opportunity to reconcile with Malchior. And then, perhaps, you merely tell Malchior that we are leaving so that Nightwing and Starfire will have time alone."

"Using one as the excuse for the other." she said with a smirk. "I like it, but it should wait a bit longer. We'll let things settle down some first."

He nodded. "Agreed."

(O)

The paper man was nowhere to be seen. Just the book. Raven couldn't help but wonder if that was a good thing. She walked over to the book stand. "Malchior?"

"Mmm?" he responded, sounding a bit sleepy.

"Sorry, are you asleep?" she asked.

"No, just resting." The book opened and paper began flying out in the shape of pages and wide ribbons of parchment that gathered together next to the book in order to create the paper man. He reached out and gently touched her on the cheek. "This isn't permanent, is it? It seems to be lasting quite a while – not that I'm complaining."

"Yeah…it's magical makeup. _Starfire's_ has started to fade but apparently mine is feeding off my own power. I'm going to have to think of something." she answered, rubbing at her own cheek. At least she didn't _feel_ like she had stuff on her face. Rorek seemed able to banish Eric's odd magic. She could probably ask him to get rid of it for her. It was nice for a while but she was starting to want her own face back. And her own hair. She had to admit, though, she rather liked not having to brush at all. Somehow Eric's magic was keeping the tangles out too.

"It is beautiful, Raven. But you don't need it." he told her softly, taking one of her hands. "You don't need it at all." How was it that eyes of ink could hold so much emotion?

Raven felt her cheeks warm for the second time in fewer hours and, once again, she locked herself up, responding to his intensity with a simple 'thank you' and taking her hand out of his.

It was probably about time to visit Nevermore and do some _serious_ meditation.

"I talked to Rorek." she told him.

Despite having only a pair of eyes described by ink, Malchior's entire face seemed to simply fall. "Oh? About what? The weather?" he asked blandly.

"No, Malchior, we did not talk about the weather." she answered with a sigh. He was going to be difficult about this. Perhaps she should wait. "I'm going to take a shower." she told him, turning towards her bathroom.

"Raven…wait."

She looked back.

Malchior sighed, looking defeated. "What is it?" he asked.

"He feels…guilty." she told him. "And so—"

"Guilty?" he cut in with sudden outrage. "_He_ feels _guilty_?-! For what?-! What can he possibly have to feel guilty about?-!" he demanded, throwing his arms into the air.

"I think part of it is that he thinks you got the raw end of the deal since you had to be aware of your imprisonment all this time." she answered.

"Raven I _deserved_ to be imprisoned!" he exclaimed. "I know I told you that our story had more to it than the valiant knight slaying the rampaging dragon, and that is true. But at the very end of it all that was, more or less, what it became. I had to be stopped one way or another, and he was the only one that could so he did. He did not have much of a choice in the matter. How is it that _he_ can feel _guilty_?-!"

"He told me that he wonders if it might have been better if he'd killed you and let himself die." she answered.

Malchior closed his eyes and shook his head, his hands were balled into fists so tight she wondered if the parchment itself might rip. "This is _my_ fault…" he murmured. "_I'm_ the monster…"

Raven walked up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Not any more." she told him firmly. His eyes opened and he stared at her. "You've changed, you're different. Even Rorek can see that. You're not that person anymore." she said. "Is a thousand years not enough time to pay for the rampaging dragon? Can't you put it behind you? Can't you forgive yourself?" she asked.

He looked down. "I don't know…I don't know if I can…"

"It's been a thousand years." she murmured, touching his cheek. "It's okay to let this go."

"No, Raven…" he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. "It's been four years." he whispered, a hand coming up to clutch hers, pressing it firmly against the soft parchment that made up his surrogate skin. "I…back then…"

"It's alright, Malchior. I forgave you." she told him.

"No, I need to tell you…" he said. His hand came down, still clutching hers, and his other came around to cocoon it in paper. "All I wanted from you was my freedom. I thought of you as no more than a tool, one that I had to use carefully. To ensure your…cooperation, I used your loneliness against you. It was…easy…" The words were painful to him, she could see that in his eyes and hear it in his voice. At first she thought she would have to keep her emotions under control, but the anger didn't rise up the way she'd expected it to. Perhaps even her subconscious understood that he was truly sorry. Still, some small part of her hurt a little to hear this. It _had_ been easy for him. All too easy.

He went on. "And then when I was free I had thought to simply toss you aside. But you fought me. You didn't curl up and weep like the child I thought you to be. You met my fire with your own and threw me back into my prison just as I deserved. At first I was angry. I raged at you in my paper prison and did everything I could to try and claw my way out of your curse but it was no use. I had grievously underestimated you. Time passed but I could not rest; I could not return to the state of mind I had once occupied. And then…then I realized that I…I was _missing_ you. I was missing the time we spent together, I missed teaching you, watching you develop, seeing you steadily absorb everything I had to give and more. I wanted it back. All of it. I wanted to be able to talk to you again, to teach you again. The reason it was so easy for me to win you over was not just because of how lonely you were but also because of how lonely _I_ was, how alike we were in so much, how we could understand one another so easily. It wasn't near as much of an act as I told myself it had been.

"I tried to deny it," he went on, "even after you reopened the book I was still denying it. I was telling myself that I wanted you back because of how powerful you'd become, and how beautiful…but in that time, in the silent hours of my returned imprisonment, the small part of me that you might call my 'conscience' began to grow. I thought of you often – though I pretended I didn't – and the more I thought of you the more I realized that even if I could earn your forgiveness for what I did, you would never want a monster like me. And so I wanted to be different. I wanted to not be a monster, and I wanted you back." he told her.

"You're not a monster anymore, and we are friends again." she said softly.

He sighed and shook his head. "No…we are friends for the first time. I was not your friend back then, but I am now. What I'm trying to say…is that this change has only been recent."

"Is it really so important _when_ you changed?" she asked him, confused.

"I don't know…I feel like…I don't know…perhaps I feel that even though I've been imprisoned all this time I haven't actively _suffered_ it the way I should." He sighed. "Perhaps…we should work on your dreamscape."

"After I've showered." she said. He nodded.

(O)

Cyborg was working on his car. This wasn't exactly abnormal, he did it quite often. It was his favorite pastime. What was abnormal was the fact that he was…well…red. Red and yellow, to be more specific. That didn't seem like a good sign.

Of course they knew he'd given himself the ability to change the color of what had previously been the blue parts of his body, it was just that he pretty much never used it after that first week of being 'King of the Rainbow' (by which title he proceeded to confiscate any and all skittles). The fact that he was doing so now – and was, perhaps, going at his car with a bit more force than was strictly necessary – was all a bit…worrying.

Once again Nightwing was the chosen sacrifice. Not even Rorek was on his side, the traitor. He was pushed into the garage and the rest of the Titans swiftly vacated to huddle around the entrance. He glared at them and then faced his friend. He took a deep breath to get some courage into his system.

"So…um…Cyborg…you, ah…"

"**I'M FINE!-!-!**" The roar shook the tower. A bit of the ceiling crumbled onto Nightwing's head.

"Kay!" Nightwing said. In a blur of black he was back on the other side of the doorway. "I think he wants to be alone." he told the others.

"No, Cyborg's not like me. He usually needs someone to yell at before he feels better." Raven mused.

"Any volunteers?" Beast Boy asked with a grumpy expression.

"Actually…I have an idea." Raven told them.

5 minutes later and Raven was carefully and quietly levitating a certain sleeping metal ball over to the workbench while Cyborg wasn't looking. After setting it down she gave it a prod and then the Titans all hid on either side of the door, swiftly closing it in the process.

"Hmm? Wha—oh, hello! Did you change your color scheme? No offense but I think the blue worked better."

The Titans expected the explosion and were not disappointed.

"YOU BUG-EYED SCRAP-HEAP REJECT! HOW DID YOU GET IN MAH GARAGE?-! AND WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THAT STUPID EYE ANYWAY?-! I BET YOU JUST HAVE A NORMAL LIGHT BULB IN THERE WITH A PLASTIC BLUE FILM OVER IT! THAT'S WHAT I THINK! AND WHAT'S THE POINT OF ALL THOSE SHUTTERS?-! JUST HOW MANY PROTECTIVE LAYERS DOES THAT STUPID EYE NEED?-! IT'S NOT EVEN IMPORTANT!"

"I feel kinda sorry for Wheatley…I mean, he's actually kinda fun." Beast Boy mused.

"He's a computer. He'll get over it." Nightwing said.

(8)

A/N: Poor Wheatley XD. Cyborg's having issues and he's the perfect scapegoat.

I wish I could get some magical makeup. I can't wear the real stuff 'cause I touch my face all the time. Besides that it's bloody annoying, takes too long to put on, and is usually made of overpriced toxic waste (anyone else notice that they don't list the ingredients on most of this stuff? THERE'S A REASON!). Fortunately no one can MAKE you wear makeup, not even at work. If they did then they would have to tell all the men to wear makeup too or else risk a lawsuit. :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Broken isle signs, exploding cereal, and meeting Gizmo in the produce section.

Still kinda needing ideas for next week's update of Squares…


	17. Mortix

A/N: Thanks to everyone who contributed ideas for Squares! I can't promise to use all of them and neither can I promise that you will recognize them when I do. Some of them got sparks flying and ideas spiraling off in _very_ odd directions. I hope you enjoy what comes out :D.

(8)

_Madam Crow was my surprise companion during my long journey back to Nahl. I was accustomed to traveling alone, but I found this to be a far more preferable way to travel. Even during our long hours of silence I found myself enjoying the knowledge of a second being walking with me. We did not speak often, and when we did she persisted in frustrating me with her riddled words. She spoke of backwards things, and yet I remembered her advice during my ordeal in Golt. She had, indeed, helped me. And a greater help it may have been had I listened to her with more care. I listened now despite my frustrations._

_After a time she began to give me real riddles, ones with solutions to find in my mind. I enjoyed these. It was so much easier to solve a riddle when you know there must be an answer._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs. _

(O)

**Chapter 17 – Mortix**

Raven took a deep breath. The expanse of Nevermore was as daunting as ever and none more-so than the part of it she liked to call Magical-Girl-Pixie-Sparkle-Barf-Land where pink reigned supreme and the sky had a sun with an effing _smiley face_ on it. She glared up at it. "Alright, who put that there?" she growled. As if she had to ask. There was a giggle.

"Oh come on! What's wrong with being happy? Pink's a happy color!" Happy gushed. "So's yellow and lavender and orange and light green, oh and blue! Of course blue! But it's got to be a pretty light shade! Like Rorek's eyes!" Happy's eyes glittered and her smile became…idiotic.

"Are you swooning? Please tell me you're not swooning."

"He's so kyoot!" she squealed. She flung her arms around Raven's shoulders. "His voice is so _dreamy_. I wanna know what he looks like under that scarf! I'll bet he's _hot_!" She giggled and started hopping in a circle around Raven like a bunny. "Oh! You know what we should do? We should totally steal his scarf while he's not looking and then tell him he's gotta kiss us to get it back! EEEEE!-!-!"

Raven twitched. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?" She started walking while Happy happily orbited her, still bouncing up and down.

"I know how we can do it! We can get Ru on our side! She'll steal his scarf for us and then we'll hide it and tell him we know where it is! But we've gotta specify that it's gotta be the lips or he'll probably just kiss our hand again." Happy gabbled.

"If I may make an observation," Intelligence (who, for some odd reason, had a British accent) came in, hovering next to the road wearing a pale green cloak. "I do not believe it would be quite so difficult to get a kiss from Rorek. _Or_ Malchior for that matter." she added pointedly.

Happy gasped and her eyes filled with stars. "_Really_?-! But how would Malchior kiss us? He's paper!"

"The dreamscape feels quite real enough, don't you think? Anyway, the point I am trying to make is that _we_ could kiss _them_ and they'd offer up _no_ objections _what_soever. Though I think Malchior would most likely be happier than Rorek. Rorek seems to be attracted in such a way that might develop into something deeper if we spent more time with him, but Malchior is already there." Intelligence answered with blank simplicity.

"WHEEE!-!-! We have two cute guys in love with us! And we like them too!-!-! Hurray!" Happy cried.

Raven passed through the gate and found herself in the place she tended to call The Wetlands. A light shower of rain fell from gray clouds and the landscape was dark and murky. Happy and Intelligence had both disappeared but another came up. She was wearing an iron gray robe, darker than Timid.

"But there's two of them and only one of us." Gloomy said. "Who do we choose?"

"Ooo! Ooo! Go with Rorek! He called us a 'Lady'!" Happy giggled, reappearing. "With a capital 'L' too! Besides! He's, like, one of the first guys ever who thinks we're prettier than Starfire!"

"We have a stronger relationship with Malchior." Logic stated, appearing in a dark orange cloak. "He is a closer friend and we have managed to work through a far greater crisis with him than anything we have done with Rorek."

"Yeah, but Rorek made us _waffles_ and brought us fried rice! And he appreciates us! _He_ said 'thank you'! Did _Malchior_ say 'thank you'?-!" Happy argued.

"We're never going to be able to choose. And while we're busy trying to decide _they're_ going to get fed up with us and we'll loose them both." Gloomy said.

"It is my opinion that we keep them both at arms' length. Friendship is easier to handle. We don't need a man to be content, just friends. And we have friends. We can have them both as simply friends and in such a position we will not be responsible for causing yet another rift to form between them." said Wisdom, appearing in a very deep blue cloak.

"But I WANT a boyfriend! Is that so wrong?-!" Happy wailed.

"No, just so long as it is understood that we do not _need_ a boyfriend. We _need_ friends. Boyfriends are optional." Wisdom answered.

"It should be Malchior. We are familiar with Malchior. Rorek is still somewhat of a stranger to us." Logic said.

"That's right! He's _mysterious_! So secretive and riddled with angst and guilt!" Happy swooned again.

"So is Malchior." Raven put in.

"Mmm, Malchior's not so much angsty as he is, well, _angry_. He also seems like he'd be a bit, you know, _needy_ to me." Happy said.

"Yes. He _needs_ us. We cannot abandon him." Logic stated.

"Especially not for Rorek. What kind of person would just _leave_ a guy who's trying to become a good person and go out with his twin brother?" Gloomy demanded. "That's probably why he really wants to stay in the book. He doesn't want to be kicked out of our room."

Raven came to the next gate and sighed when she got through it. It was The Maze.

"They don't like us." Timid said, coming up next to Raven. "Not really. We're just fooling ourselves. Why would either of them like us? We're not into the girly things like Starfire, we don't sparkle like Starfire, and we know we're not as pretty as she is either, even with the makeup."

"Rorek was staring at _us_! Not Starfire!" Happy came in. "I mean, did you see the way he couldn't take his eyes off us?-! And the way he sort of stumbled a bit when you grabbed his wrist to drag him into the living room afterwards? And even before that! He never took _Starfire's_ hand! _Starfire_ didn't teach him how to fly!"

"I'm sure he didn't like the way we yelled at him and called him a hypocrite and kept him from his brother and beat him up in a magical fight and chained him up in that room and we're not as skinny as Starfire or as tall and we've got too much muscle for a girl and our new outfit probably doesn't look as good as we think it does and we should really go apologize for all the things we said to him I mean it's not like it's our place to tell him what to do and maybe we should really take the makeup off I mean who do we think we're fooling?" Timid yammered.

Not for the first time did Raven wonder if she should change Timid's name to Neurosis.

She made it to the end of the maze and the two of them disappeared again. Now she was facing clear air, of a sort. It was the place where the ravens dwelled in a void of black with a red nebula surrounding her. There were several small ravens with big round red eyes running in a circle at the entrance and chirping, "Can't choose! Can't choose!" She kicked at them.

"We should just give them both a big wet kiss and see which one we like more!" Bravery stated.

"Then pin him against the wall and don't give him a choice in the matter." said one that Raven _didn't_ recognize. She was dressed in a dark purple cloak and was smirking as though she were enjoying some rather inappropriate joke at your expense.

"Who are you?" Raven demanded.

"I'm new. Guess." she answered, winking.

"Azar…" Raven groaned, rubbing her face with her hands. "Okay, which one do _you_ want?" she demanded.

"Oh, well, if we _have_ to choose then I'd say Rorek." the new one relented with a shrug. "But really I think I'd like bo—"

"Okay! I want _you_ to go back where you came from!" Raven exclaimed.

"That'd be your uterus!" Humor piped up in her bright orange cloak.

Raven glared at her.

Yep, this was going to take a _long_ time.

"Alright, alright, let's just get this over with." she sighed, turning to the new one. "Go ahead."

She did _not_ like the way this particular part of her smiled.

(O)

The Batman's response to her second e-mail came a bit later than she'd expected, but at least it came and with it there was proof that Batman had yet to be drained like a battery by Blood Magic. He had, more or less, told her that he _did_ appreciate the danger of Blood Magic, thanks so much, but they had responsibilities in their own city. He would call them if he needed them. Of course he'd been a lot more, well, delicate than that. But it was the message she got.

Malchior was _not happy_.

"Let me speak to this 'Batman' face-to-face! I'll tell him a few stories that'll turn his hair white!" he hissed.

_Whit__**er**__._ Raven thought. Bruce Wayne was definitely getting a little gray in the sides there. "Malchior, I think we can trust Batman in this. If he needs our help he'll call. He's not an idiot." she told him soothingly.

"I wish I could be so confident." he growled, but he let the matter drop.

Days passed. In that time things seemed to settle. There were various missions, of course, and they could turn up at any time so it was hard to set up schedules. Sometimes days were allowed to build into a rhythm, though. Each day Raven meditated, trained, exercised, read her book, and worked on her dreamscape with Malchior. Not necessarily in that order, of course, but she was able to keep track and made sure she did a little of each when she could.

Malchior wasn't spending all that time in her room anymore, however. Once it was established that they didn't need to keep their interaction with him on the down-low anymore the other Titans had taken to poking their heads into her room and asking after him. These were usually very short conversations that were just slightly strained by the overbearing sense that, despite having her permission, the visiting Titan should _not be_ in Raven's room. Only Starfire was comfortable since she had spent plenty of time there herself. And then Beast Boy managed to convince Malchior to let him take the book to his (Beast Boy's) room so Malchior could continue his saved game on Mega Monkeys Ultima. Beast Boy wanted to drag him out into the living room so they could play it on the big screen, but Malchior refused that option. What he _said_ was that it would be too crowded. What they knew he _meant_ was that he wanted to avoid Rorek like the plague.

Raven was seeing plenty of Rorek, though. He always joined her during training and he certainly needed the training. He was certainly a formidable wizard, but he was use to fighting against swords and spells with opponents who stuck to the basic two dimensions of back-&-forward and right-&-left. He still needed a lot of practice in adding the up-&-down dimensions to the battle field and he just flat out didn't know what to do when it came to technology. His best weapon was his Thu'um, but he didn't seem to like relying on that. Raven got the impression that, even if there wasn't an actual _limit_, you wanted to be careful just how much you used it.

She helped him out as best she could, but everyone's spellfire developed differently. Rorek's spellfire might _appear_ to have the same qualities as hers did, but in all honesty it was very strange to her. He could form it into blasts of force, create solid shapes with it, and, of course, bind spells to it but that was where their similarities ended. And they were very superficial similarities at that. It was like looking at a knife made of silver and a knife made of steel and saying they were the same. So she had no idea how he was going to fix his technology handicap without actually _learning_ about technology. Which meant that, soon enough, she was practically dragging him into Cyborg's workshop. He was very reluctant, at least until he realized that she intended for all three of them to work on whatever new project Cyborg could cook up. After all, what better way to learn about technology than to be involved in the process of building it? And Cyborg was one heck of a teacher, as Raven already knew.

More time passed and there was no more word from Batman, though Raven was sure they'd know right away if Billionaire Bruce Wayne went missing or was found drained of all his blood with some word written on the wall next to him. Would he tell them if and when there were more murders? Maybe. Then again, maybe not. If he did Nightwing just might decide to ignore his insistence that they stay in Jump and they'd be taking that trip to Gotham. But there was no news, not even in the Gotham newspapers that Raven had decided to subscribe to online. Oh there was plenty of the normal stuff (and it was a sick sad city indeed that considered laughing to your death to be one of the normal ways to go), but nothing with blood on the walls describing another word from Rorek's verse.

The Great Can't showed up again, but only once and the damage was…well, it was just lucky for Beast Boy that Rorek could dispel Eric's odd magic. After that he was frantically going on about "Teeth! Teeth! It was teeth, Miss Raven! Not tea! Miss Tia told me—" before Margaret's bucket of water hit Eric Divan's sleeping face.

So, after a while, Raven finally decided to broach the subject of a vacation (or rather, the Titans' version of a 'vacation' which wasn't really much of a vacation at all just a chance to do the superheroing somewhere else) to Nightwing.

"Well, we haven't been having too much trouble lately." Nightwing said, considering. "You're going to take both Rorek and Malchior? You sure you can handle that?" he asked with a smirk.

"After seven years of Beast Boy and Cyborg, I think I can handle a few days with Rorek and Malchior. Malchior can be shoved into a book bag if I have to and Rorek's long hair makes the perfect leash if it comes to it." she answered. Nightwing snickered. "I'll call Argent and make sure the Titans Europe can accommodate us for a few days. If not then I've got a bit of spending money saved up, I think I can afford one or two hotel rooms for a while." she answered.

"This isn't just about seeing Stonehenge, is it?" he guessed.

"No, it's not." _And it's not just about getting Malchior and Rorek to reconcile either._ she added mentally.

"Alright, go for it. Just know that if you need some extra money we're not hurting for it what with Cyborg's patents and all the donations we keep getting from the generous citizens of our city." he told her.

"You mean your fans?" she asked with a smirk.

"_Our_ fans." Nightwing said pointedly. "Have you been on facebook at all recently?"

"Nope!" she answered proudly.

"Cyborg says you have just as big a list of friend requests as anyone else." he told her.

"Not as big as you, I imagine."

"Alright, alright, maybe not…" he admitted sheepishly.

"Thanks, though. There are a few things I wanted to get before our trip but I was worried I might not be able to afford them _and_ hotel stays." she mused.

"Right. Hey, if you're going shopping would you mind taking Rorek along? He still needs some experience out in the modern world." Nightwing asked.

"Why not ask Cyborg and Beast Boy? They do more shopping than I do." Raven said. Nightwing didn't respond. He just waited for her to realize what, exactly, she had suggested. Images of the few times she had made the mistake of joining both Cyborg and Beast Boy on a shopping trip rolled across her mind in the form of snapshot pictures of broken isle signs, exploding cereal, and meeting Gizmo in the produce section. "I'll do it." she said swiftly.

"Thanks." he said with a relieved smile.

(O)

The makeup had come off and her hair had straightened out just after she'd gotten through her Nevermore meditation. Probably what had initially done it was the simple _need_ to remove it rather than any real desire.

She knew that Malchior and Rorek both had feelings for her which, unfortunately, did not stop at friendship. It was obvious when you looked at it objectively the way she'd been forced to through Nevermore. The thing was…if it had been one or the other then…well…maybe she'd…and he…but there were two of them. Even though there was a part of her (okay, more than just _a_ part) that _wanted_ more than friendship, there was still _two_ of them.

It wouldn't work, and there were two reasons why:

1. She had somehow managed to develop feelings for them both and she was still trying to figure out how that happened.  
2. Even if she _could_ decide on one or the other and did so, she would then be responsible for creating an even bigger gulf between the twins. She was _trying_ to act as a bridge and bring them back together as brothers, after all.

It was a mess, a big one, and the makeup _would not help_.

But she had dealt with those feelings now. She had packed them up and set them aside where they would stay until either Malchior or Rorek found someone else to become romantically interested in. She still couldn't decide which one she was hoping would break off. Most of her agreed that her relationship with Malchior was strongest but Happy liked how Rorek made her feel and _that_ part of her was getting pretty strong indeed.

Fortunately neither of them had so far indicated their feelings with any particular strength. Well…it was nothing she couldn't ignore, anyway. Like how Rorek was learning to cook some of her favorite meals, Malchior's dreamscape now had a ring of briars blooming blue roses within the circle, the herbal tea prepared just the way she liked it every morning, and the paper roses she kept finding in various places about her room. They weren't the same as that one he'd made for her four years ago when she'd first heard his voice. These were in full bloom with ink-black petals. Mostly. He was experimenting and some of them had interesting designs on the petals that were described by where the ink wasn't. One of them had a single poem written in Draconic that he'd inscribed on each petal. She hadn't been able to stop herself from reading it. It hadn't been a love poem, at least not obviously. She probably hadn't understood all of it but it seemed to be about the dream of gold, or of how gold shone in a dragon's mind. Something about gold, anyway. She collected the roses, though a guilty part of her knew she shouldn't, and hid them in the chest where the white book used to stay.

But she didn't say anything about the roses or the food or tea and neither Malchior nor Rorek brought any of it to her attention.

She flew with Rorek towards a place in Old Town that had yet to see too much renovation. Oddly enough, however, it didn't have a whole lot of petty crime (the kind that _wasn't_ perpetrated by supervillains, that is) in the area. The reason for this was a place called the Wax Ribbon, which was new even if the building itself wasn't. It was a sort of catch-all mini-mall place specifically geared to cater to magic-users. In fact one of the co-owners was a magic-user herself.

The Wax Ribbon pretty much had it all – well it tried to and did a better job of it than anywhere else Raven had gone. It had a book store, a café, a restaurant, an emporium, a pawn shop, and even a jewelry store. It was also a club of sorts; that is to say it had a dance floor in the middle and a stage that alternated between live bands, karaoke, and poetry readings (though the latter did not happen too often since the clientele were typically provided with free tomatoes to discourage anyone who thought they could make it big by talking about hwo awesmoe ti aws ot eb a vampyre).

The building followed the typical laws of magic-use by following the laws of calculus rather than physics and was therefore much bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. It was all arranged like a small indoor mall around the dance floor and stage area with balconies on the upper floors so that people could look down their noses at the mortals below and the mortals below could in turn look _up_ the noses of the snot-heads above. The restaurant was on one side of the dance floor while the café was on the other. It was typically in the general café area where the co-owner held court as she graciously bestowed her wisdom upon the eager masses of her admirers and, every now and again, actually found someone she could _talk to_ who _didn't_ want to chat about the healing power of crystals (of which there was none). Sometimes Raven was one of the latter, but more often she just came in, got what she needed, and left without doing any of the 'hanging out' bit.

Today it didn't seem like the latter option was going to be a possibility. The co-owner had spotted her and was making for her with an air of purpose which indicated that the only escape would be to turn right around and run – something Raven wasn't about to do. Not with that trail of admirers following after to witness the entire thing.

"Er, do you know her?" Rorek asked her uncertainly.

"Yes." Raven answered.

"Do you know why she seems a bit…irate?"

"No." Raven sighed and decided to face this head-on, whatever 'this' was. She moved forward towards the other sorceress and, when she got within speaking range, said, "Hi Jinx, what's going on?"

"It's you, isn't it?-!" Jinx demanded.

"Um…what?"

"_You_ have the book, don't you?-!"

"Book? What book?"

"Don't play dumb! I know you have it! Hand it over!" she commanded, holding out one hand with the other on her hip.

"Jinx, what _are_ you talking about?" Raven asked, completely bemused. "I have _lots_ of books. Is there a specific one you're after?"

The pink-haired sorceress blinked at her. Now _she_ was the one confused. "Then…it's _not_ you?" she asked.

"Me _what_?" Raven exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.

"You didn't get the book?"

"_What book_?-!"

"Oh…wow, sorry about that. I thought for sure it was you. I guess we both got overlooked then." Jinx said, rubbing the back of her head.

"Who are your friends, Miss Jinx?" asked a curious bystander, whose eyes were focused more on Rorek than on Raven. In fact, the girls were mostly staring at Rorek. Not that Raven was surprised.

"Yeah, Raven. Who's your boyfriend?" Jinx asked with a smirk.

Raven didn't rise to this. "While indeed male and a friend he is not, point of fact, my _boyfriend_. This is Rorek. Rorek this is Jinx, one of our few reformed supervillains and the co-owner of this establishment."

Rorek bowed. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, M'Lady." he said.

Jinx, who already had a boyfriend and hadn't been the type to pay any particular attention to the male race even when she was single, just shrugged this off. Many of the girls behind her, however, were visibly swooning. "Yeah, nice to meet you too." She turned back to Raven. "So you really don't know anything about the book?"

Raven sighed. "For the last time: _What book_?" she asked.

Jinx materialized a very small newspaper clipping and handed it over to Raven. "They're calling it The Mortix – don't ask me why, I have no idea where that name came from – but rumor has it that it is incredibly old and full of incredibly powerful magics that have been forgotten for centuries. In fact, some are saying this magic is so powerful that the book itself has power just from the spells being written on it – but I'm sure you don't believe that baloney any more than the rest of us _real_ magic-users do." she explained. "Anyway, as it says on that clipping: This book was excavated a few months ago by Wayne Industries who sent it to Jump City's Museum of Unnatural History to be examined. Apparently they found out that it was in some way dangerous and had some pretty powerful spells so Bruce Wayne, who everyone knows has some sort of communication with the Justice League, was encouraged to pass the responsibility of the book to the most capable magic-user of our generation. You know what that means, right?"

_It means I now know why I spotted you and a bunch of others that probably frequent this place, magical or not, at the Museum on the day I went to fill out the paperwork._ Raven thought. "I'm pretty sure I could figure it out if given a few more seconds but tell me anyway."

"It means that whoever owns this book is the best!" Jinx declared.

Raven took a deep breath and began slowly. "Based on Mr. Wayne's _actual wording_, I'm thinking you've got that a little mixed up." she stated. "What he's saying here is that the book is dangerous and is going to be deeded to a magic-user that is considered to be the most capable of their generation. That means that he, or probably the Justice League, has a specific person in mind that they are giving the responsibility to and they are doing so because, more than likely, he used the word 'capable' to mean '_responsible_'. As in someone who is going to make sure the book stays locked up and _won't_ go screwing around with magics they don't understand. The book is dangerous and needs to be looked after. It is _not_ a trophy."

Jinx gave her a grumpy look. "You're no fun." she muttered.

"Sorry." Raven said, handing her back the newspaper clipping. She couldn't help but notice how small and insignificant the article seemed. It didn't even look like the paper it was printed in was very widely published either. Strange. Probably someone with way too much time on their hands happened across it and thought they'd stir things up by posting it all over the internet and demanding attention be drawn to it. "But so long as whoever actually has this book keeps its ancient magic out of the present loop I really could care less about this."

"Well, if this book needs a powerful sorceress to watch it then it should be me." Jinx stated, her eyes daring Raven to object. She wasn't going to, though.

"It _doesn't_ need a powerful sorceress _or_ a powerful sorcerer. The word is 'capable'. It _needs_ someone responsible. As in someone who _won't use it_." Raven stated.

"Well what's the point of _that_? Why have such powerful magic and just let it collect dust in your basement or something? That's no use to anyone! If it exists then it should be used! Don't you agree?" she asked.

"Forgive my intrusion, but that is a very dangerous philosophy, M'Lady." Rorek told her.

"He's right, and no, I definitely do _not_ agree." Raven answered. "And I will give you an example that might help you understand why. The Wax Ribbon has three levels. Both of the upper levels are visible when you step out into the dance floor and look up. It's just far enough a distance that if anyone without our strengths and endurances were to fall from that height they would very likely require a swift trip to the hospital if not the mortuary. Now, let's say that, for whatever reason, there was a place up on the top floor where the balcony railing just _wasn't there_. A space exists. Should it be used? Just because it's there does that mean you should go through the space and walk out onto thin air? I know you can't fly but I also know the fall would neither kill you nor break anything so you could get up and walk away. Even so, would you do it?"

"I…uh…that's different."

"How? Philosophically speaking, explain to me exactly how that is different."

Jinx did not look very happy about being beaten in front of her admirers like that, but she impressed Raven and took it with good grace. "Fine, you're right of course. And I have to admit there _are_ some magics I have some passing knowledge of that I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole." she said. "So, when I get my hands on the book I promise I _won't_ use it."

Raven sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Fine, whatever. Nice talking to you, Jinx."

"Later, Raven. By the way, we're having a sale on candles."

"Thanks."

Rorek didn't seem quite as bothered or confused by the modern concepts of shopping and dining as she had expected. Probably some part of the Gift of Tongues helped him out with certain things, but while he did ask a lot of questions (some easily answered and some not-so-easily answered) he was not in any particular awe of the environment. He accepted how the tradition of haggling had died out in American culture easily enough, the crowd – though not nearly as large as it would be in a regular shopping center – did not bother him overmuch, and he only batted a few eyelashes when he saw some of the more…_interesting_ examples of the Wax Ribbon's regular clientele. Not the kind with the blue skin or various animal appendages, but the kind that dressed up in black outfits that somehow managed to be both boisterous and skimpy at the same time. They wore the kind of makeup that would cause even Eric take a few steps back and swiftly walk the other way, had at least two piercings that were not on their ears, and always seemed to have skulls, pentagrams, crosses, ankhs, or a combination somewhere about their person whether it was in the form of patterns, jewelry, and/or tattoos.

These were the customers that were here because they had money. They were the kind of customers who bought the fancy candles that came in all those wild shapes, colors, and scents. Some just did interesting wax spirals while some were meant to look like people, animals, symbols, and…certain…specific…_things_…

"Are those…" Rorek managed to choke out.

"I wouldn't know." Raven stated. "After the first time I came here for some candles I developed the ability to simply _not see_ those particular shelves and whatever's on them. Come on, this way."

"There are _ladies_ in this store!" Rorek hissed indignantly.

"Oh really? I was wondering where all that giggling was coming from."

"They should not be _on display_ like that." the ancient wizard hissed.

Raven sighed. _Europe's going to come as a bit of a shock for him, isn't it?_ she thought. _Good thing we're mostly staying in the UK area._

She bought some plain wax candles with nothing fancy about them save that they were lilac in color and, all shopping now completed, she asked Rorek if there was somewhere _he_ wanted to go. So they found themselves in the pawn shop. Rorek presented a bronze pendant to the appraiser who examined it underneath a complicated instrument made up of multiple lenses that weren't all glass.

"Mmm…very interesting. It seems incredibly old but it's in fine condition and the craftsmanship is simply amazing. You'd probably get more from a collector, but if you're looking to sell here and now then I'll give you a good price." he said.

Since even the IRS isn't stupid enough to stick their fingers into the business of magic-users (having half one's entire payroll mysteriously turn into toads for a few days one year followed by a second year where many of them only _thought_ they'd been turned into toads would take the fight out of any organization, even the government) this transaction happened with cash and was completely legal despite the lack of paperwork. He got a very generous amount.

After that Rorek was able to personally experience the thrill of shopping. And his first purchase just so happened to be a knife made of Damascus steel that Raven had been eyeing for the past five months and had only _thought_ she'd been inconspicuous about eyeing today. What she didn't know was that, the first time they'd gone into this emporium, the girl working the counter had caught Rorek's eye and pointed to it while Raven wasn't looking.

"I can't accept this!" Raven exclaimed when he attempted to give it to her. "That thing cost more than half the money you got for your pendant!"

"My Lady, you have not only given me the gift of flight but you have also returned to me my brother, even if we are still in discord. Compared to these things even a blade such as this is a very small matter indeed." he told her simply. "Please accept it, if only so I might feel I have gone some way in repaying you." He proffered the small, elegantly simple blade in its silver sheath.

She wanted to argue, but she wanted that knife even more. It wasn't that she hadn't been able to afford it. She could have easily saved up enough by now to buy it if she had decided she would. It was just that she hadn't _needed_ it since her regular steel knife was still able to take an edge and worked well enough for the uses she put it to. In fact a pocket knife would do the job in a pinch. It was just that the Damascus knife would mean she never had to shop for any more knives ever again. Neither would her kids if she had any, and neither would any of their kids or their kids' kids…yeah. Damascus Steel might not be quite as strong as Titanium or Adamantine, but it _lasted_.

Besides, the way the metal took on all those interesting swirling patterns made it look so cool regardless of how simplistic the knife's own design was.

So she accepted the gift and almost immediately regretted it. Rorek's spirits rose so distinctly that she felt it even though she didn't want to. That was a bit dangerous. It seemed to be teetering on that 'just friends' line she was very carefully trying to keep up. She managed to get someway back onto safely neutral ground with him by insisting she pay for her own meal when they went down to the restaurant section for dinner. Or she tried to, anyway. It didn't work too well.

"Lady Raven, it is not a matter of whether or not you can provide for yourself," he began, "I know you can provide for yourself just as you can open your own doors. It is simply that you should not _have_ to. That you feel you must do so while I am with you rather injures my pride as a man. Allowing you, furthermore, to do so would shame me."

"But that's not now things work anymore. Besides, unless you have an endless supply of jewelry that you don't mind parting with for cash you should be frugal with your money."

"I have plenty of such things that I would not mind parting with too terribly." he answered, waving a hand as though trying to dismiss her objections.

"And how long will that last? You're eternally young and the T-Tower isn't going to be around forever. I can pay for myself." she stated.

"That is not the point." he insisted.

"So…is this separate or together?" asked the poor waiter.

"Separate."

"Together."

"I'll let you two have a bit more time to decide!" The waiter told them cheerfully, escaping swiftly to another table.

Raven and Rorek gave each other stubborn looks across the table. When she realized she wasn't going to get him to budge she decided to compromise. "Alright, we'll do it like this: You pay for the meal, but _I'll_ leave the tip."

"Tip?" It seemed to take a moment for Rorek's curious linguistic skill to give him some kind of translation for that word. "Ah, I understand. No, I will pay for that too."

"Look, this is a compromise. That means that neither of us get what we want but both of us get something we can live with." she stated.

"You should not have to pay for anything."

"I'm _choosing_ to."

"Lady please," This really seemed to be bothering him. But Raven wouldn't budge. She crossed her arms and crossed her legs and made herself look as much like a brick wall as possible.

"I'm sorry but this is as far as I'll go." she stated.

"Geeze, Raven. Just let the poor guy buy you dinner, what's the big deal?"

"You stay out of this." Raven snapped. Jinx backed away with a shrug.

Eventually Rorek seemed to accept that she wasn't going to back down any further and he relented.

The waiter got a pretty big payout from that, all things considered.

(8)

A/N: Rorek is only willing to accept a certain amount of culture shock without fuss. After the quota is up he's done.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
You pushed Rorek off a cliff!

Message to Whisper Dark Rose: I'm afraid I already have the trip mostly planned out and drafted and there's not a whole lot of room for Italy (they'll be spending enough chapters in Europe as it is), but I don't really have a whole lot going for Raven's past save the typical 'born on Azarath and trained by monks' back-story that canon provides so sure! Lay it on me! I can't promise I'll be able to make it work or include all of it in the story but I won't say no to possible inspiration! :D


	18. Takeoff

A/N: The cover for Circles is…in progress. I have the background done anyway…that was the easy part.

(8)

_King Hrunting seemed pleased with my return and my old quarters were immediately prepared for me to my mild surprise. Accommodations were made for Madam Crow, but she did not stay with us long despite my request. She proclaimed that she was not fit for the life of a courtly sorceress, though she promised to send word to me of where she decided to settle._

_There were a few sorceresses in the courts of Nahl whom I did not recognize. Two of them were powerful, exceptionally powerful. One was cold, the other dark. The dark one frightened me a little, and in this was an immediate attraction. But I kept my distance and exchanged no more than the barest of pleasantries with her. Yet the longer I stayed in King Hrunting's summer castle the harder this became. When finally a bird arrived in my window with a message from Madam Crow I left the castle to visit her in an attempt to distance myself from this dark lady. It did not work._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 18 – Takeoff**

Raven entered her room and, since she was staying in for the night unless the siren called, she divested herself of cape, belt, and boots. Malchior was hanging out as a paper man but, for some reason, he wasn't moving. In fact he seemed to have found a space in her room where, with his eyes closed, head bowed, and arms crossed over his chest, he could have passed for a decoration. A mummy against the wall certainly didn't look out of place in here – though he could do with a sarcophagus.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

"Pretending to be part of the décor." he answered without moving. "Is it working?"

"Actually, yes. I might not have noticed if I wasn't looking for you and didn't know for a fact that I currently have no mummies in my room. Why are you doing that, by the way?"

"I was bored." he answered, opening his eyes.

"Right, well, guess what."

"You pushed Rorek off a cliff!" he answered eagerly.

"No, and anyway he can fly so that wouldn't work."

"What? When did that happen?-!" Malchior demanded.

"When I taught him how to fly using his spellfire. Anyway,"

"Awww _Raveeeeen_! What did you do that for?"

"_Anyway_, no. I'm taking you and Rorek to Europe."

"_Why_?"

"Well, officially we're going to see Stonehenge. But really me, Rorek, Cyborg, an Beast Boy are intending to all take vacations of a sort in the hopes that by leaving Starfire and Nightwing alone they'll stop being stupid and become a couple." she answered. "We intend to be gone for a while." Which meant she was going to have to do a proper job of packing. And _that_ meant she was going to have to organize the sub-space pockets in her belt. She'd get started after she knew whether or not Argent and her crew could accommodate them in their tower. She went over to her computer closet, opened it up, and sat down.

"Does _he_ have to come?" Malchior groaned.

"Leaving behind my whole excuse for taking this vacation would be rather suspicious, don't you think?" Raven asked.

"You could say you want to show _me_ Stonehenge. I've always wanted to see it for myself. I'm sure Rorek doesn't even know what it is." Malchior grumbled.

"Too late, Nightwing has already given me permission for this trip with my present excuse." she told him. She looked over at the black book she'd left in her computer closet. It was opened to the page with the Blood Magic diagram. Strange, hadn't she closed it? Guess not. She shut it now. She'd put it in one of the other closets once she was finished here.

Malchior sighed. "How long is a while?" he asked.

"A week. Two at most." she answered. She had her e-mail pulled up and so she typed out a quick message to Argent, telling her that she intended to bring the hot guy whose first element is actually ice and also his twin brother, who was trapped in a book.

"'The hot guy whose first element is actually ice'? What is that suppose to mean?" Malchior demanded.

"If you must know, Rorek accidentally called Argent, the one I'm writing to, on his communicator a while back. She said he was hot and he helpfully corrected her by informing her that his first element is, in fact, ice. Now stop reading over my shoulder." she chided.

"I'm not. I'm reading over your head. But I could switch to the shoulder if you prefer." he said, his head appearing right next to hers while his hands rested on shoulders that now had only a layer of the spider silk material between his paper and her skin.

"Stop that." she said, waving at his face with one of her hands without bothering to look around. His head disappeared but his hands stayed where they were and started kneading at her shoulder blades. She tried to shrug them off. "Stop that." she repeated, fully aware of just how nice it felt.

"Are you always this tense?" he asked.

"Only when people are touching me after I've told them to stop. Stop, by the way."

"I'm made of paper. Surely I can't make you that uncomfortable. Just relax. I promise you'll feel better once I get all these knots out."

It did feel _really_ good. She gave up. Between Malchior's stubbornness and her own dwindling willpower she didn't have much of a chance. She sighed in defeat and did her best to continue writing her e-mail while Malchior worked on her neck and shoulder area. He gathered up her hair and gently moved it out of the way so it cascaded down her left shoulder.

"Where did you learn to massage shoulders?" she asked. _And backs too, come to think of it._

"Books. Lots of them. Though the difference between my ability to learn from books and that of anyone who is not a book themselves is that I am somehow able to absorb a bit of the actual experiences of the author." he told her. "Don't ask me how; I never quite understood it myself. Perhaps it has something to do with the way people tend to pour themselves out into the written word." he mused. "Would you like a full massage?"

Knowing very well what all those books would say is the advised state of dress the patient should be in for a proper job, Raven answered, "No."

Fortunately Malchior knew better than to press the matter. He'd probably been joking anyway.

She managed to finish her e-mail and sent it on. Her chair was a simple computer chair with only half a back-rest that was just high enough to give support but not high enough to really relax in. That meant that even when she leaned back Malchior still had full access to her shoulders. She meant to get up and stop him but her body didn't want to obey her commands. It felt so good…she seemed to be melting into her seat…

"**Hear me.", "Become like me.", "Child of the child of…", "Time lost wisdom.", "The first escaped.", "The deep magics."**

Raven's eyes fluttered. Some distant part of her seemed to be troubled but she could barely hear it.

"**The Sin of Gods.", "The Putrid One.", "Frozen in the fire of time…", "Learn the deep magics."**

"**What are deep magics?" she mumbled.**

"**Become the center of up and down. Become the present part of back and forward. Become the pinch in the hourglass. Know your tools."**

"**I don't understand."**

"**2nd generation.", "Not alone.", "Time ate his children.", "The power of two together.", "I need your help."**

"**I'm not helping you…I don't trust you…"**

"**Circle. Edge. Light."**

"**I don't have to listen."**

"**Hear—"**

"**Raven!"**

**Her eyes opened but she knew she was still asleep. For one thing there was grass in front of her where there should have been a computer screen. For another Malchior was holding her upright and shaking her in his human shape. She blinked at him and rubbed at her eyes.**

"**Raven, I'm sorry! I didn't catch—I wasn't thinking. Are you alright?" he asked her.**

"**I'm fine." she assured him. He wasn't, though. There was real fear in his blood red eyes. "I just heard…weird stuff. I didn't understand any of it. Really, I'm alright. I'm not sure they have enough power for any clear messages. It's all garbled."**

**Malchior looked at her for another moment before she suddenly felt herself being pressed against his chest in a tight embrace. The smooth texture of his breastplate was cool and soothing against her cheek and she could feel the cloth of his cowl against her forehead as he nestled her head into the crook of his neck, one hand in her hair and the other around her back. He was trembling.**

"**Malchior, it's alright." she told him soothingly.**

"**No, it's not alright. I should have been more alert. I put you in danger." he murmured.**

**Raven pulled back so she could look up and put her hand on his cheek. That seemed to calm him down even if she was just touching cloth. "It's alright. I'm fine. Really. I'm not going to listen to them and I'm not going to help them. Alright?" she said softly.**

**He nodded, though his eyes were still pained and fearful. "Why you, Raven?" he whispered. "Why did it have to be you, of all people?"**

"**If not me then it would be someone else and they'd be asking the same question." she answered. "We'll get through this, Malchior. The Church of Blood will be dealt with, the Tartarian gods will run out of power to contact me, and – probably after some epic battle – everything will settle down again and we'll just wait for the next big worry to turn up."**

**His eyes seemed to smile, or at least they tried to. "You sound like you've had experience." he mused.**

"**We've done this a few times, yeah." she answered. "Let me wake up and we'll work some more on my dreamscape." she said.**

**He nodded. "Yes, the sooner you can start using it the better."**

(O)

"We have plenty of rooms, they just need to be cleaned out a bit." Argent was telling her.

"SHE CAN 'AVE MY ROOM DOES SHE WANT MY ROOM SHE CAN TAKE MY ROOM I'LL GO CLEAN IT RIGHT NOW!-!-!"

"Though it seems we have a volunteer." Argent added with a smirk.

"Um, what was that?" Raven asked.

"She's new. Her name's Nightshade…or Belladonna. She hasn't quite decided which yet." Argent answered. A girl with silvery gray hair, though she couldn't have been older than 14, appeared at Argent's shoulder. She was wearing a white mask over half her face while the other half was being mercilessly conquered by an enormous smile. She didn't say anything, just screamed and disappeared off screen.

"Is she alright?" Raven asked.

"She's a fan. Mostly of Nightwing but I think you're on the second rung there." Argent answered with a chuckled. "Any idea when you'll arrive?"

"I intend to leave the day after tomorrow." Raven told her. "I'll be flying my section pod of the T-ship so we'll probably get there in a day or two."

"Alright. That should be enough time to get some rooms cleaned up. You'll definitely be here before next Friday, right?" Argent asked.

"Most likely. Why?"

"You know that band I've been obsessing over recently?"

Raven racked her brains, trying to remember all the more recent conversations she'd had with Argent in the past few months. There weren't a lot. "Um...no." she admitted.

"Huh, guess I need to call you more. Or we could finally break down and get on Facebook. Anyway, Nightshade only listens to opera, Thor is all about pagan metal and won't budge unless there's mention of some goddess or other in the lyrics, and Thanatos doesn't think music is music unless someone's screaming at him. Point is: No one here likes anyone else's music. So I've got two VIP tickets to go see the very band I've been obsessing over for the past two months and no one to give the extra ticket to. Do you want to come? I'll play some of their music for you when you get here so you can decide if you like it or not before you agree." she said.

"I'll...think about it. Concerts aren't really my thing." Raven told her.

"Yeah, I got that. Think about it, I guess. Talk to you later."

"See you later, Argent. I'll let you know when we leave." Raven ended the call on her communicator and put it in her belt. Well, so much for meditating. She really needed to get started packing.

(O)

You couldn't use hyper drive while you were on a planet with an atmosphere. Air friction got in the way and while that, by itself, may not be such a big deal for the T-ship, it _was_ a big deal for anything they decided to fly too close to. Especially if it was at all flammable. And so that was why a trip from Earth to Tamaran took only a day or two longer to fly than a trip from America to Europe. And you couldn't count on autopilot to fly it while you slept, either. Even out in space the Titans knew better than to completely trust a peaceful cruse to stay that way. So she would need to set the pod down somewhere for a night or two, get some sleep, and then start back up again the next morning. If you were going to be asleep when you were randomly attacked by some villain or freak accident of nature or something then it was best for the pod to already be on the ground so you didn't need to add said ground to your list of problems.

Unfortunately the individual pods were made with the idea that, if you had passengers, then it was because of some emergency and they could deal with having only just enough space for five people to find somewhere to sit and, if the need arose, shuffle around one another in order to reach the bathroom. Shoving a second bed in there, even a small one, made things very cramped indeed. Fortunately it had a closet for cargo, a mini fridge already installed in the wall, and one passenger seat that could be folded out and would be stationed to the right of the pilot. This, however, meant that if the pilot wanted to get up and grab a drink then the passenger was going to have to get up, fold the chair back into the wall, and shuffle around to crouch in the small space available just behind the pilot seat so she could pass. It also wasn't nearly as comfortable as the pilot seat, neither did it have as much space around it or the ability to lean back. But they would make do. Rorek could always get up and lay down in his bed if he needed to.

"I hope you don't mind small spaces. I could probably expand the closet into a second room but since this trip is going to be pretty short I'll only bother if we feel like we really need it." Raven told Rorek.

"I will be alright." he told her.

The packing didn't take too long. Really all they needed was enough food to last them for the trip there and back. What took all that time was Raven's desire to finally get the sub-space pockets in her belt sorted through. Most of it was stuff she really didn't need but, like all the other Titans, had collected and didn't feel right about throwing or giving away. Well, probably some things she might take to the Wax Ribbon to sell, but for the most part it was stuff to shove into her closets - which, themselves, needed to be reorganized but that could wait until afterwards.

Malchior helped. He hadn't actually offered to, he just sort of started sorting through the piles with his paper hands and asking her where she wanted him to pile this or that. He took her lack of rebuke as permission to continue and so helped her along with his own hands and small amount of levitation. Of course he had a soupcon of ulterior motivation and was rewarded for his good behavior when, while Raven's back was turned, he unearthed a small bundle of spare costumes. There were a few sets, all clean, with, fortunately for him, a few extra items of one sort or another. This meant that she probably wouldn't notice that there would be one particular item missing. It was, after all, a rather small item.

Well what did she expect? He never claimed to be a choir boy. He never even claimed to be a particularly _good_ boy. In fact, what with one thing and another, he had been extremely well-behaved up until now and deserved a reward for it. Well, okay, so he'd indulged in more than one naughty little vice since being allowed free reign of her bedroom in his paper form. But compared to what he _could_ be doing they were small vices indeed. He never snooped in her _hidden _closets and he didn't actually _touch_ anything…for the most part.

This didn't count, though.

_This is hardly appropriate._ part of him grumbled.

_Who's arguing? Shut up._

He bundled up the rest of the clothes and placed them in the laundry shoot as Raven directed. They seemed clean to him but she didn't really want to take that chance.

And then he found a much older costume, the kind he'd seen her wearing the first time she'd opened his book. He couldn't help but wonder how she'd look in it now and had a pretty good idea of why she'd decided on the change. Her new outfit was flattering and practical enough, but he got the feeling that it was designed to hide or, at the very least, downplay the parts of her that ensured her gender would never come into question regardless of the hood.

But, he decided, she could do without this old outfit. It brought back memories he'd rather leave where they were. Memories of a lonely girl who just wanted some quiet time to herself – all the more lonely because those she called her friends didn't seem to understand this or her or the odd darkness she'd been born with. He'd understood her. He'd understood all too easily. Much too easily. If only he'd stopped and really thought about what that meant.

Despite wanting to burn the thing, he went ahead and asked Raven what she wanted to do with it. She indicated a pile of the things she intended to recycle in some form or other and he very cheerfully tossed it on top of the metal box with the odd crack in it.

Some time later he found a few old notebooks with some rather interesting sketches done in the lined paper. Now that was strange. Hadn't Raven once described her artistic abilities to him as being of the sort that could make stick figures look bad? Well, even if she didn't quite know what to do with lines she certainly seemed to know her way around the shading capabilities of a pencil. Ball-point pens, too, by the look of it.

"What are you looking a—HEY!" Raven made a grab for the notebook he was currently studying but he held it up out of her reach, laughing.

"And you told me you couldn't draw." he chuckled.

"I _can't_. Give that back! They're just…just doodles!" she exclaimed.

"Ah, I thought they were abstract. Very nice. Have you ever tried painting? If you have as good an eye for color as you do for shading, then I'd really like to see what you could do with it." he mused, still managing to hold her off with one hand while the notebook he'd been reading was clutched in the other and held out of her way.

"Give it back!" she commanded. She then tackled him using her natural ability to fly as her leverage and he fell, hitting the ground on his back with a soft thud.

"But I haven't seen them all!" he exclaimed, laughing. She was trying to keep him pinned down and grab the book at the same time but it wasn't working too well. His arms were longer than hers, for one. For another he had more than one arm and she'd made the mistake of _not_ pinning him down from behind. He wrapped this arm around her waist to stop her being able to get very far and began a light dance of paper fingers along her side.

"Hey! Stop that!" she exclaimed, squirming.

No ink eyes could properly convey the wide grin that would be across Malchior's face right then had he only had a mouth. "Why Raven, I do believe you are ticklish." he observed evilly.

"I am not!" she gasped out, now fighting against his hand. She was too strong for him and pulled it away from her side. Not for the first time did he regret declining her offer of freedom. If he'd been flesh she wouldn't be able to get away from him so easily. But he did have two hands. He abandoned the notebook in favor of catching her with the element of surprise. An unmistakable squeak of laughter managed to burst out before she clamped down on her vocals and his second hand.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, twisting his hands to lever them out of her grip so he could keep on trying. She tried to roll away but he followed her and was on top and in a much better position to wriggle his hands and fingers into the right places. It was, perhaps, a bit ironic that he was laughing more than she was. He was having _way_ too much fun.

He was mildly aware that if his body had been flesh rather than paper this would have very likely been a dangerous situation. True, his paper body _could_ feel such things as desire and, yes, _lust_, thanks to the words he was actually made of, but it did not have the same procreation instincts as a body of flesh and so these emotions could simply be put aside in the name of some innocent fun.

He relented after finally getting an actual giggle out of her and let her go, still laughing. "You _are_ ticklish." he declared. She gave him an _extremely_ grumpy look. He decided _not_ to tell her how cute it was.

But she got what she wanted. He'd released the notebook and she scooped it up along with all the other notebooks he'd uncovered. "These are private." she declared pointedly.

"Then draw some that aren't."

"I told you: I can't draw." she stated.

"You mean that you can't draw the things you see with your eyes. But what about the shapes in your mind? Art is not about expressing what is there; not anymore. Cameras and other such recording machines do that well enough." he told her.

She looked uncomfortable and covered it up by changing the subject. "Let's just get back to work; we're almost done." And she put the notebooks in one of her many closets.

(O)

Packing everything she thought she'd need and outfitting the T-ship for a few overnight journeys didn't take as long as she thought it would. So they left early on the day of.

Raven packed Malchior up in his book bag on his own request, accepted the other Titans' hopes that she and Rorek would have fun, ignored the not-so-subtle winks from Cyborg and Beast Boy, and they were off without too much more fuss.

The current T-ship pods did fit together to form different parts of the whole ship, but while the old T-ship broke off into different pieces of only mildly altered shapes from the original whole, the current one broke off into five pods that all looked like miniature versions of the combined ship. It was an amazing feat of merged magic and technology that Raven was _quite_ proud of. Oh the other feature would have worked well enough, but doing it this way also meant that each individual pod could take on colors and designs which only showed up when they broke apart. Raven's pod was almost all black with small areas of white for spare decoration. She would have used blue, but decided against it since Nightwing kind of wanted to use black and blue on his pod. Oh her blue would have been darker, but she liked the black-&-white look just as well.

Raven had a few spaces around her pilot consol for such things as drinks, meals, and books so she could reach them without having to get up and go grab something from the back every time. She put Malchior in one such space for the time being.

"Fascinating." Rorek said next to her, craning about a bit in order to see the expanse of the land and the horizon becoming greater in their view.

Once they were high enough they might even be able to perceive the mild curvature of the earth itself. She did plan to fly the pod up very high so they could avoid disturbing any other air traffic. They were flying across the US towards the Atlantic Ocean and that meant they'd be sharing the skies with many commercial vehicles until they got to the sea.

"Er…just how high are we going to fly?" Rorek asked her.

"Not nervous of heights, are you?" she asked him.

He chuckled. "Nervous of a lack of breath. I have stood on mountains and know that the air becomes thinner and colder the higher one travels."

"Don't worry about that. The T-ship and all its individual parts have self-contained environments intended for space and underwater travel. Compared to that a high altitude is nothing. We won't even get sick from rising so high so fast either since everything from our air to our gravity is controlled by the pod. Pressure, warmth, and oxygen levels will all stay normal."

"I know what you just said…" he began awkwardly. "But I think the details have escaped me somewhat. I was not aware one could get sick from rising too high too fast." he told her.

"Probably it doesn't happen to dragons. I imagine you're made for flight like this." she mused.

"Not like this, M'Lady." he told her. "I've never heard of a dragon who dared dance with the clouds, save one. And I do not believe Maartuz counts as an ordinary dragon."

She snickered. "No, probably not." she agreed. "Incidentally, I'm sure I've already said you don't have to call me 'Lady'."

"Yes, you have." he responded lightly, his eyes smiling at her.

She just shrugged. "Suit yourself." she turned back to the task at hand. When she felt she was at a height that no commercial vessel would use unless it had absolutely no other choice, she put the pod on auto pilot and leaned back in her chair. The view out either side of the pod was pretty good. Various textures of land and clouds drifted past below them at disproportionate speeds and they could, indeed, see the hint of the earth's curve across the great expanse of their horizon. The sight seemed to be taking up all of Rorek's attention now.

"Amazing…" he murmured.

"Would you mind me turning on some music?" she asked him.

"Er…" he looked immediately uncomfortable. "I…erm…no, no of course not." he told her politely.

She chuckled. "Let me guess, all you've heard is whatever music Cyborg or Beast Boy made you listen to proclaiming it was the best in the world, right? There are lots of different kinds of music here in the future. And present technology gives us the ability to share music all over the world. Here, the stuff I listen to is very different from the others'. If you don't like it then I'll just turn it off."

They passed the time going through Raven's bands. Rorek admitted that he didn't mind her music near as much as what he'd heard thus far, but he didn't seem overawed by Lacuna Coil, which was her favorite. He did find a particular fondness for some of her bands, however, and so she made up a playlist that gave them some background music. Well, it was background for Raven, but Rorek had yet to come into the notion that music was something you didn't have to give your full attention to. So he simply sat there and listened while she pulled out a book and read.

"Can we play that song again?" he spoke up after a time.

"Sure." She tapped the back button on her console's touch screen without even looking at it but found herself listening a bit more closely this time. It was the first song Rorek had asked to repeat.

_Merlin, the sea, lunar delight  
Merlin, my dear, uranium bride  
Merlin, my birth, my solar grenade  
Merlin, so real, is what I elate  
Come and get me…_

_And we dive away now…_

_Utopian grey now_

Ah, that was a good one. It was probably her favorite song from that band.

_Merlin, my fear, my cosmic perfume  
Merlin, the seed, the snake I consume_

_Merlin, my sin, my Lilith in flames  
Take me away, on luminous trains  
Come and get me…_

_("Merlin" by Flowing Tears)_

"Again?" Rorek asked tentatively.

Raven chuckled. "Here, I'll put it on repeat. Let me know when you want to listen to something else." she said.

"It is truly amazing to have such music so readily available whenever one wishes." Rorek said wistfully.

Raven nodded and returned to her book. She tuned the song out with learned skills born of her curious desire to read in the living room of all places. She liked the song a lot, but knew that if she actually listened to it on repeat like this she'd get sick of it and she really didn't want that.

Some time passed. Then Rorek asked, "How does one turn the music off?"

"Getting tired of it already?" Raven asked, pressing Pause.

"Actually I was rather hoping to inquire about the place we are headed and the people we will be staying with." he answered.

She placed her bookmark on the page she was at and closed her book. "Well, Titans Europe are stationed in Phoenix Park, Dublin Ireland but they typically take care of things in Ireland, United Kingdom, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus, Ukraine, Moldova, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Greece, Macedonia, Albania, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, Italy, France, Spain, Portugal, and everything in-between."

"That…that is quite a responsibility…" Rorek said faintly.

"Oddly enough there aren't a whole lot of supervillains over there. It's still an enormous responsibly but they seem able to manage well enough – though I think that's mostly because of Thanatos."

"I am going to assume that you are _not_ speaking of the Death-Breather."

"Huh, is that what you called him? I thought Thanatos was just the Greek personification of death. Anyway, no, you're right. Most of us take on different names when we become Titans so he just calls himself Thanatos. He's human – well, human enough. He has a natural ability to teleport to just about anywhere even if all he has is a written description to go by. What's more he can create portals with that same ability. He can't create more than one pair at a time but other than that the power doesn't have very many limitations. I think he dabbles a bit in magic but I'm not sure how far he's come with it." she explained.

"Ah, I see. And the others?"

"Well Argent is the founder. She's originally from New Zealand – which is, in fact, on the _other _side of America – but I guess she got rid of all the super villains and moved because she was bored. She's a sorceress who specializes in shaped and solidified spellfire that she has developed to the point that it will last some time after she's crafted it. She's moderately good at other magic as well and possesses natural levitation abilities like me. Thor is what you might call the tank of the group. He's very strong, very han-er-hard to knock down, and has a rather peculiar weapon that is usually shaped like a hammer – hence the namesake – that can change into any weapon or shape he wants and will always come back to him when he throws it." she explained.

She'd also developed a very small crush on Thor the first time they'd met. But she'd gotten over it when she realized he was carrying a torch for Argent. Unfortunately for him, Raven got the distinct impression that Argent simply wasn't interested. Oh well. Maybe that'd changed since the last time she and Argent had sat down and had, for them, a moderately convincing imitation of 'girl talk'.

"There's also Nightshade, who is also thinking of calling herself 'Belladonna'. She's new so I don't really know anything about her." Raven added.

"And is their tower much bigger or smaller than yours?" he asked.

"It's pretty much the same, though not quite as high-tech since they don't have Cyborg on their team." she answered. "It's pretty nice, though. What it lacks in technology it makes up for in aesthetics. It is, more or less, a T-shaped castle that they built. I understand some of the natives were a bit irritated by the stereotyping, but Argent put her foot down about that. She said, and I quote, 'I don't see the bloody point in setting up shop in bloody Europe unless I bloody well get to stay in a bloody castle!'"

"That's four 'bloody's in one sentence. Seems she was quite emphatic."

"Yep. That reminds me, I meant to call her up when we left." She put her book away and pulled out her communicator. She called Argent, who answered on the third ring. "Hey, Argent. We're on our way." she said.

"Cool. Sorry, can't talk right now. We've got a bit of a hydra problem down here in Athens." Argent told her.

"This might not be the best time to bring this up but, well, don't you think you guys are a bit over-stretched?" Raven asked.

Argent gave her a stiff, manic grin that looked to be teetering on the very edge of sanity. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked.

"Make sure you burn the necks after you cut off the heads or they will grow right back three-fold." Rorek told her.

"So that actually works? Great! I'll remember that when we actually manage to get to the head-cutting part. Bye!" There was a loud roaring in the distance just as Argent ended the transmission.

Raven paused a moment. "Isn't a hydra a type of dragon?" she asked.

"Yes, just as a monkey is a type of human."

"Point taken." she said.

Rorek chuckled with good humor. "There are many dragon-_like_ creatures that have no more actual relation to us than you have to a field mouse, My Lady. One might say there is a difference between the modern classification of 'dragon' and the word we use to call ourselves, which is 'Dovah'." he told her. "They have no words; no sentience; no blessing from Maartuz."

"No Thu'um, in other words?" she guessed.

He looked at her in surprise. "Indeed. Just how much has Malchior been telling you?"

"Enough to explain some of what I've perceived for myself – particularly from our battle." she answered. "It's not magic; it's a lot more potent than magic. The power is in the words themselves that, according to legend, comes from Maartuz. But knowing the word well enough to use it in conversation is not enough to use it in a Thu'um. You have to really _know_ the word in order to call up its power."

"If you understand that much, Lady Raven, then do you possess any words of your own?"

"What do you mean 'words of my own'?" she asked.

"Not every word of the Draconic language is Rotmulaag, a word of power. And those that are you must learn and collect, as it were, individually." he explained.

"Ah, then no. I don't." she told him. Though, for some reason, she felt the words 'Fo' and 'Yol' rise up in her mind and she wasn't sure why. She hadn't learned them, had she? No, that was impossible. She'd just dreamed them…sort of. She decided not to ask if one could learn any Rotmulaag by dreaming of dragon battles. "I have a question though,"

"Yes?"

"That Draconic power chant, 'Naykronah Hetbriikah Maartuz', that's not exactly a Thu'um, but it's not exactly magic either. What is it?" she asked.

"Ah, yes. You are right, and at the same time you are wrong. It is neither Thu'um nor magic while at the same time it is both. Legends say that this chant is, in fact, what allows dragons the ability to use human magic and, alternatively, allows humans to use the Thu'um. It is the bridge between us. 'Two powers of fury brought together in the beautiful kind of pride by the blessing of Maartuz'. Some say it is the reason the Dov possess human shapes and are thus able to procreate with humans, but no one really knows the truth behind that business." he explained.

"Hmmm…so in order to use the Thu'um I would need to master the chant first?" she asked.

"More or less, yes."

"It's strange, though,"

"What is?"

"I feel like I've heard several different translations of that chant, just with the same mix of words." she told him.

"Yes. I imagine so. In a way the chant's meaning can be turned this way and that to suit the need of the moment. It is versatile like that. You might use it to give yourself the power to use the Thu'um, then you might use it to double your own power for a time, you might use it to combine your power with another's to create something far greater than the sum of its parts, and then you might use it as a wedding vow."

"_Wedding_?-!" she exclaimed. "It's a Draconic wedding vow?-!"

"Oh yes, in fact it is especially necessary in any union between a dragon and a human. Very versatile, as I have said." he answered.

"You weren't kidding." she mused faintly.

After a while they lapsed into silence and Raven turned the music back on, though Rorek consented to putting it on shuffle again so he could listen to other things, but he memorized the name and band of 'Merlin' to come back to later.

(8)

A/N: "He's very han-er-hard to knock down," Nice save there, Raven XD.

I'm totally stealing Thor from Marvel Comics (well, sort of, he's getting changed up a bit. If I left him as a god Malchior and Rorek would both be bursting blood vessels), does anyone care?

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Maybe if you cut your hair and stopped wearing the mascara…

I pulled a muscle in my lower back the other day…it is very painful…(whimper) T-T


	19. The Titans Europe

A/N: Quick note: I am American and therefore all my knowledge of Europe has come from TV, video games, books, various bits and pieces that managed to actually stick during certain social studies lectures, people I know who have been and/or lived in certain areas, and common sense. So please forgive me if I get something HORRIBLY wrong. We'll just say it's like that in the DC universe and sidle off whistling an innocent tune that fools no one.

PS: I have to work tomorrow (well, it's overtime so that's good, right?), so I'm afraid Squares won't be updated. Will still update Circles on Sunday, though!

(8)

_Madam Crow was a renowned sorceress and yet she did not seem to use any perceivable magic in all the time I spent with her. When she tended her garden she knelt down and pulled weeds with hands and spade. When she chopped wood she hefted the axe in her own two hands. When she cleaned her cottage she sloshed soapy water across the floor and scrubbed with a horsehair brush. She struck stones to light her fires, heated water to wash her laundry, and carried her linens outside to air them out. All chores she performed as she would have had she been a common girl keeping house for her husband. When I asked her about it she told me that she had two hands and two legs and they were working just fine, thank you. What did she need to use magic for when she was perfectly capable of doing without?_

_And yet one day a dying boy was brought to her doorstep that I knew from a single look could not be saved. And yet save him she did, and I could not wrap my mind around how she did it. I perceived no magic, and yet the next day the boy was up and playing with his friends as though he'd never been ill in the first place. The explanation she gave made no sense. And yet, the tree standing next to her house appeared to have simply died overnight._

_It wasn't magic, I realized. This was something deeper. Like the shadows in the Castle of Golt. Madam Crow said yes, I was right. She didn't use magic. Not often. Magic got in her way._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 19 – The Titans Europe**

They made much better time than Raven had anticipated across the continent. By evening they were already at the coast of the Atlantic and looking for somewhere to stop for the night. It was easy enough to find islands across the ocean but harder to find one that wasn't occupied by sentient life that would undoubtedly demand some sort of fee for a night's stay even if they declined staying in the overpriced hotels. They managed it, though. It wasn't so much an island as a very large rock, but the pod found a secure enough place to touch down. Raven wasn't too worried about the waves knocking it over in the middle of the night. For one, she could set the pod to alert her if it did. For another, anything that was capable of surviving the debris-filled vacuum that was space at a speed that would turn the smallest hovering pebble into a bullet with a thousand times the power of a rocket launcher was _not_ going to get damaged by plunging into the ocean.

Raven made use of the small shower to wash and change costumes. Then she made use of Rorek's shower to pull Malchior out of his book bag and check on him.

"How are you?" she asked him.

"It's boring but that's nothing I'm not used to. Where are we?"

"In one of the T-ship's detachable pods. It's a bit cramped in here but it'll only be for one or two nights." she said. "Probably only the one considering the time we made.

"I see two beds in one room. You're sleeping in the same room?" he demanded.

"Why not? I sleep in the same room with you all the time."

"That's different! I'm paper! Flesh is not so easily kept in check." he complained.

Raven rolled her eyes. "I seriously doubt Rorek is going to try and ravish me in the middle of the night. The beds are too small for one."

Malchior's book opened in her hands and showed her a picture of his ink eyes giving her a very irate _Look_, the kind which requires a capital 'L' and italics.

"I'm glad you think this is so amusing." he grumbled.

She grinned at him. "It's just for two or three nights total, coming and going. Tell you what, I'll leave you under my pillow so you can keep watch. How does that sound?"

"It _sounds_ like you trying to cajole a child." he replied irately.

"Well you act like one sometimes." she stated. "So which is it? Pillow or book bag?"

"…Pillow." he decided.

"Good."

There was just enough space on the narrow bed for his book to be hidden by its pillow, but any movement would likely reveal a corner or edge. Oh well, she didn't really intend to keep Malchior's release from the book bag a secret from Rorek. She'd tell him if he asked. In fact she thought about 'accidentally' losing the book bag, but decided against it.

She brushed her hair and began braiding it. She'd dried herself in the bathroom with a simple spell that simply extracted most of the water from her body so she wouldn't be laying down with a wet head. She was tying it securely when Rorek emerged from the shower. He was wearing none of his armor so presumably he'd placed it in sub-space for the time being. His scarf was still fixed securely over his face and she couldn't help but wonder if he always slept with it on. Once the notion had occurred to her that, perhaps, in the land of Nahl men were required to cover their faces. Usually it was the women for various reasons so she doubted it. More than likely it was a style thing. A style he was very dedicated to if that were the case. Religious, then?

She decided not to ask. Nightwing couldn't stand to look at his own face without the mask on, much less let anyone else see him. Perhaps Rorek had some similar aversion.

She finished her tie, put her brush away, and slipped into her bed under the covers. "Let me know when you're ready to turn the lights off." she said. Rorek grunted in response. She curled up on her side, facing the wall, and listened to him navigate the small bed for some time before he vocalized his confirmation. Then she reached up to the switch and the lights were off, leaving only the dim moon and starlight to filter through the pod's tinted glass.

(O)

"**There are some outside Nahl who think you are a witch of the worst sort."**

"**There's them outside Nahl who wouldn't know a real witch if she waved a bone at them. Pay them no mind."**

"**Are you native to Nahl, then?"**

"**Oh yes."**

"**Why did you leave, then?"**

"**There was need of me elsewhere."**

"**In lands that call you a witch."**

"**If you learned of another case in Elti that was much like what happen in Castle Golt, what would you do? Would you go even though you knew you wouldn't be welcome?"**

"**I don't think so. Somehow it seems wrong to help people who do not wish to be helped."**

"**Oh? The people in Castle Golt wanted help and desperately. The only ones who despise you for what happened there are those who didn't like you much in the first place."**

"**But that took care of itself. I did nothing."**

"**You did something, lad. You brought the sins into the light. It was when your call for justice was denied that the shadows took matters in their own, for want of a better term, hands. You did much more than you think you did. And it would not have been resolved without you."**

"**I really do not understand any of this."**

"**There are some things we aren't meant to understand, and some things that work best when we don't try."**

"**Who are you, Madam?"**

"**I? I am just a poor old woman who just keeps finding her old self in strange company. That's all."**

"**Really? Because right now you appear quite young. Less than thirty, I would say."**

"**Do I? Ha! Well they do say you're only as old as you feel."**

"**Who says that? I've never heard that phrase."**

"**Hmm, haven't you? Oh…guess my mind has been wandering a bit more than usual lately."**

"**Wandering where?"**

(O)

Rorek woke at dawn but Raven was still sleeping. With the light drifting gently into the pod through the glass's curious tint he could make her out without difficulty. She had rolled onto her back in the night and her face was now in his direction. She seemed peaceful, but there was a crease of mild concentration or confusion upon her brow. He wondered what she was dreaming about.

He sat up and watched her sleep. The blanket had fallen off during her movements but she had managed to stay in place despite how narrow the bed was. The pillow had moved too, and he could just make out something that couldn't possibly be part of the pillow.

"Malchior?" he ventured.

"Daanik." the other swore. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Why are you under the Lady's pillow?" Rorek asked suspiciously.

"So you don't try anything while she's asleep. Actually that's a joke and we both know it. She just put me under her pillow to make me happy when I objected to your sleeping in the same room." Malchior answered.

"I see. Why didn't she tell me?"

"Because I asked her not to." Which was, technically, a lie, but Rorek didn't need to know that. "And anyway, why should she? Or did I miss the part where she agreed to tell you everything she does and why?"

"You _are_ my brother." Rorek pointed out.

"I'm not yours anymore." Malchior stated. "I'm _hers_. By our laws and theirs."

"You know what I mean."

Malchior stayed silent. If he had a tongue to bite he'd be biting it now so as to securely prevent himself from saying things with every intention of hurting. Rorek was wrong; they weren't brothers. They were more than just 'brothers'. What they were went deeper than blood and flesh and even bone. Hating Rorek hurt, and it hurt a lot. But he didn't know how to stop. There was too much pain, too much bitterness, too many memories. He'd spent too long incubating all these things and not _nearly_ long enough trying to let them go. He needed Raven for this, and he needed her badly. _She_ knew how to forgive; if only he could swallow his pride and simply _ask_ her for help. If only that would be the end of the problem.

Rorek sighed after a long pause. "So you are simply not going to talk to me, then?"

Malchior's silence was his answer.

"Fine." Rorek said, sounding a bit more harsh than he meant to. He laid back down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Raven to wake up.

(O)

Rorek and Malchior had obviously exchanged words while she was asleep. Malchior asked her to put him back in the green book bag and Rorek didn't give any indication that he was surprised to hear Malchior's voice, neither did he even acknowledge it. Obviously it hadn't gone very well.

So she put him in the book bag, though reluctantly, and the two fleshy people breakfasted on microwaveable croissant sandwiches with sausage, egg (or rather that fake yellowy egg-textured 'I Can't Believe It's Not Egg' stuff that you find in these things), and cheese. Rorek didn't think too much of them, not that she could blame him. But he ate anyway and they got on their way with no incidents.

Once the pod was high enough for autopilot, Raven turned the music back on and pulled out her book. Every now and then Rorek would ask to put a song on repeat for a time and Raven noticed that most of the songs he requested this for were by Flowing Tears. Seems they had found him a favorite band. She wondered what Malchior's favorite would be.

She took off the autopilot as soon as they found themselves flying over actual land and began directing the pod towards Dublin, close enough now that she needed to fly lower and much slower as a matter of course. Rorek's eyes were glued to the window in fascinated awe at the Irish landscape and asked for her to turn off the music so that he could enjoy the sights now. She did so and they flew in silence for a while.

As they started getting lower and flying in a less-than straight line owing to the large respectful birth Raven was giving the Ireland air traffic Rorek started pointing at things and asking her what they were.

"Looks like a farm." she told him.

"Do farmers normally grow their crops to look like that?" He sounded a bit irritated for some reason.

She chuckled. "No, those are crop circles. They're a prank."

"_Prank_?" he demanded.

"Calm down. Yes, it's a prank. Around 1970 and before the earth _actually_ made contact with real aliens – who don't do that sort of thing, just so you know – some people got together and used enormous bits of cardboard to press down the crops and make huge circular shapes without damaging the actual crop. Then they blamed it on aliens. Well in the 1990s the hoax was revealed and now people do it as a sort of art form and competition." Admittedly they usually looked a bit more interesting than the ones they were flying over right now, but she decided not to say anything. For some reason Rorek seemed a bit upset by it.

"I wish they would not." he muttered. And Raven suddenly remembered Malchior's circle and how tight-lipped he was about the entire thing. A circle made by describing where the grass was not…or, perhaps, where it was laying down? Did it matter one way or the other?

"There's no magic, Rorek. It's just ordinary people having a bit of fun."

"Mmm…" he grunted, offering no more comment than that. He avoided looking out the glass for a while but when the crop circles were well behind them his eyes returned to the other sights that were steadily getting closer.

And then they were flying over the city of Dublin aiming directly for Phoenix Park. It was dark by the time they got there, though, so now there were the city lights to stare at.

The European Titans' tower wasn't _exactly_ a castle, it just had a very castle look to it with short individual towers on either side of the 'T' that had cone-shaped roofs. There were even those long ribbon-like flags billowing and flapping in the wind like you saw in cartoons and picture books, though these were black. There was an easy landing site in the wide space between the stubby single-floor towers which had been brightly lit for them. She set the pod down with ease.

"I do not feel as though it should be night yet…" Rorek mused as she killed the engine and they unbuckled.

"Yeah, it's called jetlag. You might get a bit sick from it but maybe not. We basically flew towards the sunrise, meaning the sun passed us, specifically, by at a greater speed than it originally would have if we'd stayed at the tower." Raven told him. She grabbed Malchior's book bag and slung it over her shoulder.

The European Titans didn't have a ship; they didn't exactly need one with Thanatos on their team. Technically Raven could teleport the Titans to different places herself, but that sort of thing was tricky business when it wasn't a natural ability. Thanatos's method of teleportation wouldn't swap anyone's eyeballs, no matter how far they were going.

Two large double-doors on the western end of the T opened up as they left the pod and Argent flew over to them. "Sorry we don't have a hanger or anything, but the ship should be safe enough." she said by way of 'hello'.

"It's fine. Are the others asleep?" Raven asked.

"Yes. It is pretty late, though Nightshade tried to stay up for you. She's in the living room on the couch. I tried to wake her but she sleeps like a rock. Come on, then. I'll show you to your rooms. Where's the one that's trapped in a book?"

Raven pulled the bag around and showed it to her. "The book bag is well-padded and he likes the quiet." she explained.

"Does he get his own room? We have three ready just in case."

"He usually stays with me." she answered.

"That's cool. The third room was a bit of a rush job anyway. Either of you hungry?" Argent asked.

"A bit." Rorek admitted.

"We'll stop by the kitchen first, then."

(O)

She didn't know he did this. She'd probably kill him if she did. Or maybe just set him on fire. He was practically harmless like this, though. Well, alright, he could make a very nasty edge with his paper and could cut things like hair and skin. But he wouldn't hurt her; not her; not again; never again…

He didn't do it often, and he didn't stay for very long. But every now and then, like tonight, when she was sleeping too deeply even for dreams, he would emerge from the book as the paper man and slip in next to her. Then, just for a while, and hour or two at most, he'd hold her like that.

He knew he shouldn't, but he was _paper_. He couldn't even kiss her like this so where was the harm? Well, perhaps he _did_ have hands that could go where they had no right to be, but he never once touched anything save her waist and head. He might be able to feel lust through the words, but that was one emotion which _did_ need flesh if it was to have any kind of strength and, thus, any chance of being truly acted upon. Besides…it felt so good to have her in his arms like this. Of course, it would feel even _better_ if he could do this while she was awake but…

Gently he ran his fingers through her hair. She'd left it loose tonight and it felt like silk – but perhaps that was just his perception. He wondered what it might feel like on real fingers with real nerve endings. He touched her face and felt the slumbering currents of power pulsing beneath her skin. Such power…where had it come from? It had not been there before in any form, he knew. This wasn't something one could hide; not from the right senses; not from a dragon. What happened? Where did she get this power? And just how much of it was there? All he could tell was that it was there and it was locked up tight. He had the feeling that it had something to do with her father but…no. If this was something to do with her lineage then he'd have felt it before.

And then he began to wonder: Was it just her that had such power? Were there others? If so…why? Had the old gods really learned of a way to break out of Tartarus? Were they giving her and possibly others the power to free them? It was a terrifying thought, especially if there _were_ others. And the Blood Magic would not be helping. Had Raven heard anything more from this Batman? Surely he would have contacted her if the problem had been dealt with.

He traced her brow lightly with a paper finger and touched the red-black jewel on her forehead. He froze.

This was the first time he'd touched the stone. There was no real reason why; he simply hadn't until now. Now he realized…it wasn't a stone at all; at least, not one that had she simply wore upon her forehead for whatever reason. It was _part_ of her. He could sense her through it just as palpably as though he were touching her skin. It was some sort of carbon deposit mixed with blood. That accounted for the color. It was a diamond of blood. There were old forgotten stories about them. Stories he could only vaguely recall. For some reason, he felt it had something to do with lead. But that didn't make sense. Perhaps he would remember in time. For now it seemed to him he had found some clue pertaining to her power.

"Seems we're not the only ones keeping secrets, are we? Just who are you, Raven?" he whispered softly.

(O)

Thor was as tall as Cyborg but not quite as broad. He had a main of red-blond hair that brushed his shoulders and a very short beard that he kept well trimmed so it was less a beard and more a decoration. He had lion-like features, deep-set gray-blue eyes, and was often smiling broadly since he considered himself to be the comedian of the group. He wore black steel armor with iron plates of the traditional Nordic style as well as a metal band around his forehead. He was very handsome, very charismatic, and often boisterous. He was the first to greet Raven and Rorek when they arrived in the kitchen the next morning.

"Afternoon, you two." he said, his accent very faintly Scottish despite his Nordic theme.

Well, it was morning for _them_ anyway.

"It is a pleasure to have such lovely ladies gracing the tower. One of you I know, but I have not had the honor of _your_ acquaintance." he went on, turning a mildly flirtatious smile to Rorek.

Rorek put a hand over his eyes and sighed while Raven tried, and failed, to stop the giggle. She slapped a hand over her mouth and turned away as Rorek said, calmly and without rancor, "I apologize for disappointing you, serrah, but I am not a woman." Something that was made immediately apparent the moment his voice was heard.

Thor's expression sent Raven into another bout of trying not to giggle and she had to turn her back fully upon the two men in order to get a hold of herself.

"I'm…extremely sorry." Thor said in a slow, steady voice. "But you have to admit, you look a bit…well…girly."

"Yes, so I have been told…many times." Rorek said with another sigh.

"Maybe if you cut your hair and stopped wearing the mascara…"

"I will _not_ cut my hair, thank you, Sir, and I do not wear mascara. My eyelashes are naturally thick and dark. What am I suppose to do? Pluck them? That would be quite a bit more pain than I am willing to go through for the sake of being less 'pretty'." Rorek stated.

Thor laughed. "You and me both! My fault, though. I should have taken the hint from your flat chest there. What is the 'R' for, if you don't mind my asking?"

"To be perfectly honest this is not, in fact, an 'R'. It is a symbol that was given to me by a friend and I am unsure of it's true origin. By happy coincidence my twin brother received a symbol that looks very much like an 'M'. You would appreciate the ironic coincidence more by knowing that our names are 'Rorek' and 'Malchior' respectively."

"That's interesting. So where's your brother?"

"Presently, he is trapped in a book. So was I not long ago, but due to a conjunction of chance circumstances I was able to free myself." Rorek explained.

"You can't free him, too?" Thor asked curiously.

"We're working on it." Raven came in by way of an explanation. "How've you been, Thor?"

"A bit tired but things seem to be quieting down." he answered. "It's not like we're the only super heroes running around Europe, we're just the only ones with Cyborg's fancy gizmos and gadgets. Well, alright, there's the Justice League still floating around, but since _they're_ up in a space station and _we're_ already here it's just that much more convenient for us. And, fortunately, we'll be getting more members in pretty soon. I think Argent is going to try and organize a second outpost tower."

"How many more members?" Raven asked.

"Two for now. We thought it would be three but the third's decided she wants to head for the States." Thor shrugged and grinned at Raven. "I think she's a fan of yours."

"Are you talking about Nightshade?"

"No, Nightshade – or Belladonna, whichever – is staying with us. You haven't met this one before, though you might soon enough. So…breakfast?"

They saw Thanatos next, but he didn't talk much and he didn't eat much, either. He was dressed in a very plane outfit of dull gray-black and faded brown. it was little more than a long-sleeved tunic, pants, boots, gloves, hood with a poncho, and a full-face mask of iron. The eyes of the mask were little more than narrow slits that showed nothing of the eyes behind it and there were holes in the mouth for easy oxygen. There was just enough shape to the mask itself for it to have a permanently dour expression. His greeting was a nod to Raven and Rorek but little more.

Argent came in next with a 'good afternoon/morning(heheh)' of her own and after lunch had been sorted out then Nightshade made an appearance. For some reason she was covered in what appeared to be inexpertly applied posters and came into the living room fighting to get one of them off her left boot. They all stared at her. From what Raven could see of her she wore, in addition to the white mask that covered half her face, a long black opera cape (which looked far less ridiculous on her than The Great Can't), a white undershirt with large puffy sleeves and ruffles at the collar, a wide waist belt to keep the shirt in place, and black leather pants underneath. She also had a rapier at her hip with a silver hilt that matched the silver circlet keeping her mask in place. The posters were all over her cape, one was in her short silvery gray hair, and a few were on her shirt.

Everyone stared.

"Um…Nightshade? Something happen on patrol?" Argent asked slowly.

"Don't ask…" Nightshade moaned, finally managing to get the poster off her boot. She then stared at it with a mournful expression on her face. "I use to like ze Russian Ballet…" She crumbled the poster and tossed it over her shoulder. It landed in the trash can several feet behind her.

"Tell me someone at least went to jail for that." Thor said as Nightshade, who still hadn't spotted the guests yet, inspected the state of her cloak.

"Of course." she answered primly. But then she sighed and began tugging at one of the posters on her cloak. "Zis is going to take forever…"

"Here, let me help." Raven said. She raised a hand and the posters all lost their coloring before they removed themselves from the gray-haired youth, crumbled up, and flew into the trash can.

Nightshade didn't notice. Her eyes went wide when she spotted Raven and she let out a squeal of delight. "Mademoiselle Raven!" she exclaimed. That was about as much as Raven caught before she was being hugged, kissed on both cheeks, and chattered at in what had to be native French – which was one language she did not know.

"Um, translation?" Raven requested awkwardly.

"She's happy you're here." Rorek supplied.

"Really? You surprise me."

"I am so sorry!" Nightshade gasped, releasing Raven. "I am a big machine of blades zat blows air!"

After seven years of Starfire, this one was easy. "You mean a fan?"

"Yes! Zat! I am sorry. I tend to forget my English when I am too excited." she apologized, smiling and beaming. "Do you like your room?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, it's very comfortable. Thank you." Raven answered. It was nice and dull with a pleasant gray and blue theme. It might not be her cup of tea (she liked walls and ceilings dark enough you had to take a guess as to where the corners were), but it could be _much_ worse. It could be _pink_.

Not that Nightshade looked much like the sort of girl who'd like pink. In fact, apart from her blue eyes and creamy peach skin, she didn't have any real color at all.

"You are here to view Stonehenge, yes?-! I would be happy to escort both of you! When would you like to go?" Nightshade asked eagerly.

"Probably tomorrow – after we've recovered from jetlag." Raven answered. "So, what powers do you have?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing much," Nightshade began modestly so Argent had to come in.

"Nightshade's glass rapier is as strong as its holder desires. She is very good with it too. She can also fly, disappear for as much as five seconds at a time, and can pass through solid objects."

"Actually I am still working on zat last one. I cannot do it very well just yet." Nightshade admitted.

Raven considered the girl for a few seconds before saying, "You know, I think you should stick with 'Belladonna' as your name. It would suite you better."

"You zink so?-!" she asked eagerly. "Zen 'Belladonna' it is!"

"Thank gods that's over…" Thor sighed.

But suddenly Belladonna was looking a bit uncertain. "You don't zink 'Belladonna' is a bit…pretentious, do you?"

_Let's see, Phantom of the Opera theme, obviously a native of France; doesn't 'Belladonna' mean 'beautiful woman' somewhere in that mix? Well, 'belle' means 'beautiful' in any case. As for it being pretentious…_ "No, I don't." Raven said aloud. The half of the girl's face that could be seen was _very_ pretty in her opinion.

Belladonna beamed so happily that Raven had to wonder what would happen to Starfire's rooftop garden if Belladonna decided to visit and help out.

(O)

It was an interesting day, and not much of a vacation. London bridge got attacked (_again_) and the two guests decided to help out the Titans Europe. Thor had protested that they were on vacation but Raven had explained that Nightwing's definition of the word 'vacation' was a bit different for Superheroes. And he was right. The Titans, at least the ones of Jump City, didn't have steady work schedules. When you counted up the hours they spent chasing and beating down villains and compared it to the actual number of days in which these hours had been added up then you'd probably get a result of less than 10 hours a week. Of course, that was _without_ factoring in the hours they spent training but even so. Down time was not in short supply for them.

On the other hand, most 9 to 5 workers didn't put their lives at stake as part of their job description. They also didn't get turned into animals, switch bodies with their co-workers, forced to date the daughter of a moth mutant, deal with evil super-powered siblings, need a battery in order to move, or have alternative dimensional clones show up with the power of optional logic in their finger.

Raven got a chance to see Belladonna in action, though. Argent wasn't kidding, she _was_ good with that sword. At first Raven thought her moves were a bit overdramatic. Graceful, certainly. The girl seemed to dance across a battlefield of robot drones with her glass sword practically invisible beneath a cloudy sky, but her moves looked like they belonged in a ballet, not a battlefield.

She realized she was wrong. Belladonna used her showy moves as a distraction which seemed to work even on robots and while it might look like she was pointlessly showy her kicks were nothing to be sneezed at. And while you were laughing at the way she swept her hands out this way or that way she had just removed your head by switching her sword from one hand to the other while you weren't paying enough attention.

Of course the other Titans were pretty good too. Thor's hammer went through the robots' flimsy armor while his fists bashed their heads in. Thanatos had very inventive ways of using his portals as actual weapons (some a bit _too_ inventive) and had come along far enough in his magical studies to develop some small use of spellfire. Argent was probably the most effective, though. Her spellfire fists crushed several enemies at once and she was making red cages to stop the robots that Raven was herding into small spaces.

They were all eclipsed by Rorek, however, when he managed to find just the right place to avoid friendly fire and let out a roaring shout of power that twisted into something more than a word the moment it hit the air.

"**FO**!"

The result hit and froze the majority of the robots left over. Some of the less-then-optimal automatons actually shattered. Those that were left over went down very swiftly while Raven and Rorek's spellfire was enough to finish off all the frozen ones.

"Nice." Raven said. "Looks like you're finally figuring out this whole technology thing."

"Yes, though only with the Thu'um thus far." he sighed. "I wonder why magical ice is not as effective."

Belladonna suddenly appeared, threw her arms around Rorek's neck, and kissed him on both cheeks without seeming at all fussed that they were covered with his scarf. She was pretty cute, but one would have thought she was sprouting tentacles all over her face from the strength of Rorek's shock and discomfort (though he was pretty good at showing no more than the shock on what bits of face could be seen).

"C'était fantastique!" she exclaimed.

"M-merci, Mademoiselle…" Rorek returned, awkwardly attempting to put a bit of distance between himself and the rather over-enthused youth as politely as possible. Fortunately she could take a hint and she backed away, still beaming.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Argent exclaimed when the rest of the Titans Europe joined them, gaining general agreement from Thor. "How did you—" but suddenly their communicators started beeping. Argent groaned and sighed with resignation. "You know, sometimes we can go for an entire month with nothing and then sometimes they just come in one after another."

"Preaching to the choir." Raven said.

It was pretty late by the time they finally got back to the tower to stay.

(8)

A/N: Not too happy with this chapter, to be honest. I think it needs more editing but I procrastinated and rushed it. Ugh. Oh well. Next chapter will be much better, I promise!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Malchior, stop threatening the fleshy people.

I've found that if I manage to get a chapter edited (well, edited enough in this case) and uploaded to Doc Manager on Thursday night then I can use my phone to post it during my lunch break at work! Isn't that awesome?-!


	20. Stonehenge

A/N: Federal regulations require me to inform you that this next chapter…is hi-_larious_. Enjoy. :D

(8)

_I began to have terrible nightmares. In my slumbering world there was fear, blood, stinging salt of sweat, claws, teeth, and a deep emerald green. I knew what had brought these on. In my journey back from Madam Crow I happened upon an empty tower where I found the decayed remains of what had once been a beautiful emerald dragon and from the depths of my consciousness the memories returned, sharp as a sword. They cut into my mind, my spirit, my very soul. Memories that I had locked away for so long. Guilt, shame, and yet the burn of past pains, past scars – claws cutting so deep._

_I had slain a dragon in a land where the dragons were revered and honored. Thus far I had told no one and I kept my peace upon my return to court. But while my waking mind could banish the deed my dreams provided no such mercy._

_Upon the third month of these troubles my king took me aside and bade I tell him what ailed me._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs_

(O)

**Chapter 20 – Stonehenge**

"This vacation is not going to keep us from your lessons the entire week, is it?" Malchior asked with some irritation.

She had gotten back late and tired to boot. She'd gone straight for the shower after returning and was now brushing out her hair, preparing for bed. Bed, after an entire day spent with _him_. Malchior wasn't irritated, he decided, he was seething.

"We'll work on it tomorrow, after breakfast." she promised. He relaxed a little. "When do you think I'll be able to start using it?"

"When you are able to make it invariable enough. Right now it'd still bend a bit like normal dreams. Once you can craft a place that stays solid and changeless, to a certain point that is, then it will be good enough to use." he explained. "I suggest your first be something like the dreamscape I've been taking you to. It will be familiar."

"First? How many can I make?" she asked curiously.

"As many as you wish, once you know how. The mind is capable of great recollection by its own power – when it's trained to it – and this magic gives it more than its own power." he answered.

"How many do you have?"

"Only one, but it is extensive. Yet another way I passed the time." he answered.

"I kind of wish I could see it all. The grass field is a bit boring." she mused.

"Then maybe you should build something in yours. A tower, perhaps." he suggested.

"Mmm…that could be fun."

"Indeed it is very fun, when you are not doing it because there are Tartarian gods trying to talk to you." he muttered.

"Would you calm down? Hearing them now and then is not going to kill me. I don't have to listen."

She didn't get it. She really didn't. And why would she? She didn't have his knowledge and, to some degree, his experiences. She had only the watered-down stories that had been changed too often (many times on purpose) to have more than a soupcon of truth in them. But he knew the oldest ones; the ones of fire and blood, of parents eating their children, of human sacrifices, of hair and teeth and so much blood…

It hadn't all been the gods, of course. But they were supposed to help and instead they made things worse. Then, as if to add insult to injury, they even had the gall to pretend they were the only ones keeping things as good as they were. Lies. Lies and misguided arrogance. There was a price for power and he knew only too well what happened when you didn't pay it. Mortals might be forgiven, but gods should know better and did not deserve such mercy – not when their mistakes could be so cataclysmic. Not when such cataclysms were only ever truly suffered by mortals.

How could he make her understand?

"Raven, have you ever heard of something called the 'Sin of Gods'?" he asked.

He suddenly had her full attention. Raven lowered her hairbrush. "Rorek mentioned it when he was telling us about Blood Magic." she answered. "I wondered what he meant by it but wasn't really able to question him at the time. He said something about how it was too easy for mortals to fall prey to 'the sin of gods'. I'm guessing it's not just gods who commit it then, is it?"

"No, it's not. It is simply called that because it is the reason the gods were hunted down with such merciless ferocity and rage. It is the reason Pahmonah was bade to create Tartarus as a living hell for the worst of them. But the Sin of Gods is not an action, it is a way of thinking that, to some philosophies, is considered to be the beginning of true evil. It is a disease of what is often called 'human nature', and any cognitive entity which possesses such a nature can be taken over by it. Especially those with power – any kind of power."

"Power…" she repeated, though he was unsure of what she was thinking. "What is it? What is the 'Sin of Gods'?"

"It is the belief that people are things." he told her. "So easy to explain, but with so few words you cannot truly grasp just how far it goes and how hard it sometimes is to distinguish. It is not merely selfishness, you understand. Many people can be petty and cruel and do terrible things by simply looking at another and saying to themselves, 'you are not me, and therefore I don't care about you. I only care about me and mine.' But this goes farther. Much farther. This is saying, 'I am the only real person in the world and no one else is. In fact, I am so much better than you are that it doesn't matter what I do to you or what happens to you.' and there's even more to it than just that. It is layered, progressive, seductive, and not always what you think it is. And it can start anywhere: pride, pain, thirst, depression, misunderstanding, or simply a lack of disciplined upbringing – of never fully learning or accepting the fact of life that is called 'consequence'."

"Did it ever happen to you?" Raven asked softly.

"Yes." he admitted, his voice shaking. "Remember? When I used Blood Magic; when I stole blood from another to…" He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself. "But after that…no, I stuck with ordinary selfishness. I knew other people were people, I just didn't care…for the most part. Sometimes I'm not so sure which is better and which is worse. I'm told that this is worse and in a way I can see how it would be. When I was acting out of selfishness I could still feel the guilt, I simply ignored it. When people act out of the Sin of Gods then there is no guilt or shame and no reason, in their mind, why there should be.

"The gods never asked for forgiveness." he went on. "They fell so far they couldn't understand that there was anything they should be forgiven for. They just covered up their mistakes, pretended it never happened, or blamed someone else. They did anything and everything rather than face it and take responsibility. And why should they? They were gods, better than mortals by default and for no other reason than that they were big and powerful and would live forever. They were wrong, as it so happens. They truly believed there would be no consequences; that there was no higher power other than themselves. They were very, very wrong.

"But can you imagine, Raven? These beings had all the power they could want and they were so far-removed from the very idea of mortality. They didn't know what it was to work and toil and bleed for their food and water and shelter and protection. They didn't know what it was to struggle within a society or civilization, coming together out of fear and desperation and knowing only that there was strength in numbers. They didn't know what it was to fear death and yet know that it would come for them sooner rather than later. How could they possibly understand mortality? What right did they have to judge and rule when their very existence became little more than finding ways to amuse themselves as the centuries passed? How could they make demands of mortals when they knew nothing of what it cost and offered nothing in return? Do you truly think it is possible that any being with a human nature could resist the corruption of that kind of power? It takes a certain kind of conditioning – an almost cruel kind of conditioning – in order to resist the Sin of Gods when you are that powerful." He looked at her, closely. He would have missed it if he hadn't been watching for it, but there was a flicker in her attentive expression. She understood, didn't she? "You've had that kind of conditioning, haven't you?"

She looked away. "I'd rather not talk about it…" she murmured.

He reached out and touched her cheek gently. "Whatever you went through…it was better than the alternative. Believe me." he murmured. "I've been there…"

She looked at him and nodded. "I'm…kind of tired." she told him. He nodded and took his hand back, though it was almost painful to do so. "I guess…I just wish I didn't have to be afraid of sleep."

"You don't." he told her. "Not as long as I am here. I will protect you." he promised.

She turned away from him swiftly and awkwardly mumbled a 'thank you' to her bed. Malchior's fists clenched. If he'd been flesh, he'd be drawing blood.

_A rejection of a sort. She will be your friend but no more. Do you really have any right to expect more?_ he asked himself.

_No…but that doesn't stop me from wanting it._ he replied. _I'm not giving up._

With that thought he unraveled his paper form and returned it to the book where he waited for her to fall asleep.

(O)

"Would a civil conversation be too much to ask?"

"I do not remember ever agreeing to provide such a service."

"These large vehicles with the open seats are…interesting."

"Go stick your head up a duck's bottom."

"I am afraid there are no ducks in the vicinity, dear brother. And even if there were it would not fit."

"Don't care. Do it anyway."

"We could talk about grass. That seems a rather neutral subject."

"I would rather strike up a random conversation with the chuckling idiot sitting behind us. Hey, you, chuckling idiot. What is your name?"

"B-Brian Schtofer, mate."

"Well, Brian, if you call me 'mate' one more time I will give you a paper cut of the sort that you will not be forgetting in a hurry. Incidentally, you're not related to any metal balls with glowing blue eyes, are you?"

"Could be, could be."

"Why are you still laughing? I've just insulted you, threatened you, and you are still chuckling. Are you touched in the head?"

"Why not ask me why I've got an Australian accent and a German surname?"

"Why? Because I do not, in fact, care. I'm only talking to you to avoid the fleshy thing next to me who claims he's my brother."

"Malchior! Sit down and leave those people alone!"

"Fine…" Malchior slunk back down on his seat and slouched down into it, arms crossed and ink eyes broody.

"Sorry about that." Raven apologized to the guy behind him.

Brian Schtofer shook his head, all good-natured grins and chuckles. "Sorry? Bless you! If this goes on I might have to go back and hand someone a few more pounds for the entertainment." he said.

"Pounds of what, exactly?" Rorek asked, curiously.

"That's what the currency is called here, genius. Try to keep up." Malchior replied. "Can I go back into the book now?" he asked, and there was almost a whine in his voice.

"Nope. If I have to socialize then so do you." Raven answered. She had found that, when the book was stuck in an enclosed space (such as the book bag) Malchior's paper form could neither get out nor could it get back in. He described it as having your hand on one side of a bracelet that is too small for the palm to fit through without opening the clasp.

Argent snickered beside her and Belladonna giggled on her other side. She knew it had been a bad move to force Malchior and Rorek to sit together, but Argent and Belladonna had already claimed her for one bench seat of the shuttle and she wasn't about to let the two claim two separate seats. There was no telling what Malchior would do or say to whoever got in and sat down next to him. There was enough room on these seats for three people each so the twins had _some_ space between them.

More or less.

At least the other passengers were amused by their bickering rather than annoyed.

"What if it's damp out there? I'm made of paper! My feet will get soggy!" Malchior complained.

"Maybe not. It's magic paper." she answered.

"Very funny." Malchior grumbled. "What are you smirking at you smug prick?"

"I was not smirking."

"You're a bloody liar! I know a smirk when I see one. Do _you_ want a paper cut?"

"No physical contact!" Raven snapped over her shoulder.

"You heard the lady."

"Oh shut up!"

"You first."

"You started it!"

"So I will finish it."

"Prick."

"Bastard."

"Pretty-boy."

"Lavatory paper."

"WHAT?-!"

Raven sighed and leaned back in her seat. "I miss my kids." she mused wistfully, thinking of Teether and Timmy for some odd reason. It'd been far too long since she'd visited them. The last time had been a few weeks before their first encounter with The Great Can't and, thus, before the whole deal with Rorek and his grimoire. Maybe when they got back she'd find a day or two to spend with them. Or maybe she could just get Thanatos to make her a portal to the monastery they were being raised in.

It took a moment for Raven to realize it had gotten way too quiet behind her.

"YOU HAVE KIDS?-!"

Argent, who knew about Melvin, Timmy, and Teether, burst out laughing and almost fell off the bench. She managed to catch herself in time. Raven turned around in her seat. She gave Malchior's incredulous eyes and Rorek's shocked ones a bright smile. "Yep! Three of them. If you learn to behave maybe you can meet them." she told Malchior cheerfully.

"You're joking. Tell me you are joking." Malchior pleaded.

"No. They're mine." Just not biologically. Azar, this was mean but oh so much fun.

"You're not old enough to have three kids!" Malchior wailed almost pathetically, leaning forward so he was right by Raven's head.

"You don't know how old I am." she stated primly.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?-!"

"It never came up."

"Never came—I don't believe this! Who's the father?" he demanded.

"No idea." Raven answered. Then she decided to have some mercy on him. "I don't know who their mothers are either; in case you were wondering."

There was a pause.

"She _adopted_ them." Argent explained. "They stay in a monastery but she's their official guardian."

Raven heard the distinctive sound of heavy paper hitting leather as Malchior fell back into his seat. "That was cruel, Raven." he stated grumpily.

"I can do worse, Malchior." she replied cheerfully. "Behave."

Malchior muttered something under his breath, and then aloud said, "Stop laughing, Brian. I'm not joking about the memorable quality of my paper cuts."

"Malchior, stop threatening the fleshy people."

"That rather limits my choice of targets."

"_Good_."

Eventually (finally!) the shuttle bus arrived at their destination. Of course they _could_ have just had Thanatos teleport them directly there, but there _was_ such a thing as good manners. Argent had agreed that, since they were only sight-seeing and not, as it were, saving Stonehenge from superpowered vandals, it would probably be a good idea to go through the proper permissions first. Not that it'd been a painful process by any means. Stonehenge had its fair share of super villain attentions; most of them mad, evil, and/or power-hungry men and women (usually of the magical persuasion) who either simply didn't like it or thought it was the source of some great power and were determined to unlock it. And the local government was the grateful sort that had a long memory. The Titans (Temp Titan and Titan-Whether-He-Knows-It-Or-Agrees-With-It-Or-Not included) weren't even having to pay for either the admission or the shuttle ride. That was lucky since there was nothing in the books about how much you were supposed to charge walking paper for admissions.

Of course they didn't do their job for gratitude, but sometimes even the smallest show of appreciation made it all feel worth it. Amazing how even someone just _saying_, 'Thanks for risking life, limb, general shape, and sometimes your very existence in all four corporeal dimensions to save us.' could feel so good.

The ground was damp and therefore Malchior's feet were getting soggy, which he lost no time in complaining about. Most unfortunately for him, a group of picnickers were only too willing to donate a bright blue tarp for the paper man that had been so amusing on the shuttle. He was soon walking around wearing a pair of makeshift shoes that did _not_ improve his temper _what_soever. Raven only hoped he didn't realize that the present party of sight-seers seemed to be taking just as many pictures of him as they were of Stonehenge itself. Someone appeared to have their camera trained permanently on him and was no doubt recording Malchior's ranting and grumbling about damp grass, damp paper, and how ridiculous he looked with bright blue tarp tied over his feet like this. The slightest hint of Rorek snickering sent the two of them into another bought of insults and name-calling that, this time, went from English to Draconic after only a few rounds. It was quite an education for Raven, who could pick out the words and got a general idea of what their combined forms probably meant in the context. Her repertoire of less-than-polite combined words gained a grand increase.

For the most part no one was allowed to go near Stonehenge unless you were part of a select tour and had made reservations to be on said tour. The Titans, however, were given permission to just walk right up and have a picnic during a time between tours for the same reasons that their passage and admission had been paid for. No one was going to suspect a group of superheroes to do any vandalizing when they, on multiple occasions, had _stopped_ this place from being vandalized in more ways than one. They'd have to kick their own butts then.

Even so they had an escort, which was only fair.

She was an older woman. Her faded red hair was streaked with gray and pulled up in a tight bun. She wore a red blouse with black slacks, had silver-rimmed bifocals, gray eyes, a bit too much makeup, and she clutched her tablet notebook to her chest in a manner that suggested she was on a bit too much medication at the moment. But she was dedicated to doing the job properly and stammered her way through the known history of Stonehenge (which wasn't much more than 'it's been here a really, _really_ long time') and then through as many credible theories as her tablet could bring up for her on such short notice. Belladonna produced her fold-out picnic chair and kindly offered it to her along with a bottle of water.

"Th-th-thank you!" the woman, who had introduced herself as Mirabelle McPherson, gasped. Belladonna also took her tablet for a moment so she could open the bottle and get a drink without worrying about her trembling hands splashing water onto it.

"I think her accent is fake." Argent confided to Raven on the other side of the stone circle. "Plenty of American and Canadian immigrants around here, nothing wrong with it. But tourists expect a proper accent I suppose."

"American tourists would certainly feel cheated without." Raven murmured back.

"I know what this is." Rorek's voice suddenly said not far from them.

"Keep your voice down, idiot!" Malchior hissed.

Raven and Argent were suddenly crowding around the twins. "You do realize Stonehenge is one of the great mysteries of the world, right? And you're saying you know what it is?" Argent asked, poking Rorek in the ribs (which didn't work since he was wearing that silvery armor).

"I…um…that is, I've seen it before." he told her. "It was around before I was sealed in the black book. Only at that time there was a temple built around it. A very large one."

"Yes, with walls bearing writing of a language that people wanted eradicated." Malchior added.

"Are you saying these are _dragon_ monuments?" Raven asked incredulously.

"What, dragons? Dragons are real?" Argent asked. "Well, I mean, obviously there's Hydras and such but…"

"No, there's only hundreds of different legends about them all over the world for no good reason whatsoever." Malchior answered flatly.

"Yes dragons are real, or were real." Raven stated, giving Malchior a look. "Be nice."

"But nasty is so much more fun." he said innocently. "And yes, they are dragon monuments." He glanced over his shoulder, presumably to make sure their escort was occupied, and grabbed Rorek by the wrist. "See, look." Before Rorek could protest Malchior pressed his bear palm against one of the larger stones, but let it go swiftly so Rorek could jerk his hand back. For a moment small Draconic script blazed upon the surface of the stone in blue-white light. It covered just a bit more of the stone than Rorek's palm had, but only for a second. It was gone before Raven could catch any of the words.

"Er…what was that? That never happened when _I_ touch the stones." Argent said.

"Wrong kind of magic, I'm afraid." Malchior told her.

_And species too, I imagine._ Raven thought to herself.

"Best keep this to ourselves, though. Wouldn't want to spoil the fun of a good mystery." he mused.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea." Rorek said, glowering at his paper brother.

They had their own picnic in the center of Stonehenge with Belladonna chivalrously sitting on the ground so their escort could rest in her seat. They passed around sandwiches, crisps(chips), biscuits(cookies), and, because the United Kingdom has a rather different set of drinking laws than the United States, wine. Raven had had wine before on occasion, but she didn't enjoy it nearly as much as Rorek, who took what appeared to be a large drink (judging from the sudden drop in the liquid level of his wine glass) and sighed with great contentment.

"Okay, that was freaky." Argent stated, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't you take that scarf off for _anything_?" she demanded incredulously.

"Er…"

"No, he doesn't. And I'll tell you why," Malchior came in.

"Malchior…" Rorek growled warningly. He was ignored.

"It is because he does not want all present female company to feel upset and inadequate that he is prettier than they are." the darker twin stated.

Rorek glared. "Alright, so when you had _your_ human form why did _you_ wear a cowl over your face as well?" he demanded.

"To look dashingly mysterious." Malchior answered simply. "And because I can't stand having your face." he stated.

"It's _our face_. Deal with it."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"Challenge accepted, dear brother."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Hey, hey, hey! The 'no physical contact' rule goes for you too, Rorek!" Raven snapped.

Now she _really_ wanted to visit her kids. At least they had an excuse to act like kids and she wouldn't feel quite so embarrassed about the motherly harmonics she could hear in her own voice. _Groan_.

Their picnic lasted for about half an hour. Argent brought up the subject of the concert she'd told Raven about before and she somehow managed to get Raven to promise to go even though she couldn't quite remember what Argent had said the band's name was. Lady—something. It'd been German she was sure. Oh well, she could deal with it for Argent's sake, she decided. Once their allotted time had elapsed they had to pack up and leave so the next tour could visit the stone circle. Hopefully _without_ the well-drugged Mirabelle as their escort.

"I am r-r-really v-very s-sorry." she stammered out. "N-new medication. For anxiet-t-ty. D-don't know that it's w-working much."

Belladonna made her promise to get some rest and plenty of water before they bade her goodbye and then loitered among the other picnickers waiting for the return shuttle. They didn't really need to. Raven _could_ just teleport them back to the T-tower in Dublin from there, but taking the shuttle back would extend the amount of time Malchior would be forced to socialize with everyone and, thus, Rorek – which was the whole point of this trip, really.

The seating arrangements were the same as before – though Malchior made a lengthy protest that continued on even after the shuttle started moving. Raven threatened to slap him if he didn't shut up. Soon after he had managed to bundle up his tarp-made shoes into a little ball that he was throwing at Rorek's head. Rorek tried to catch it but Malchior was levitating it back into his hand too quickly with the result that it seemed like he was bothering Rorek with the most awkward looking yo-yo Raven had ever seen.

She should probably tell Malchior to stop, but she knew, _knew_ if she did there would be no way of getting around the feeling that she'd just adopted a pair of 1,000+ year-old dragons as her children. There was a word for that in British English. It was called 'mumming'.

Rorek decided to tolerate it. But this was only because the 5-year-old kid sitting behind them was being delightedly amused by the show.

"How are you doing that without a string, Mister?" the kid finally asked Malchior once he'd managed to stop laughing long enough.

"Magic." Malchior answered flatly.

"Is it real magic or are you just super-powers?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Are you a mummy? Shouldn't you be in a sarcophagus? How come you have a British accent? The Egyptian Pharaohs were all from Africa. So shouldn't you be saying stuff like 'yo mama' and 'oh no you di'in't' like the black people on TV do?"

"I am made of paper, not burial linens. I am an ancient sorcerer that has been trapped in a book for over a thousand years – though at the moment I have been trapped _out_ of it." Malchior answered.

"Cool. So what would happen if I unwrapped you?"

"You would get a bad paper cut."

"Oh…but what would be underneath?"

"Math homework."

"Oh…"

Belladonna and Argent were almost in tears but Raven knew that _she_ couldn't allow herself to laugh. If she did it would only encourage him and he did _not_ need encouraging.

"Will you stop that? You must be getting bored." Rorek asked.

"But we're bonding! Isn't that what you wanted?" Malchior responded with a much too cheerful tone of voice.

Rorek just sighed.

(O)

It was evening. They returned to the Dublin T-Tower and Malchior had been allowed back into his book. However the book had not, as he had expected, been returned to Raven's room. Instead it found itself being passed around so he could get better acquainted with all the European Titans. He was not too happy about this, but the strange thing about Malchior was that he couldn't seem to help being charismatic even when he was trying to be mean. Even Thor was too laid back to get mad when the ancient dragon started pointing out flaws in the card game they had invented. They still got him to play it.

Once darkness descended, though, Raven decided to have mercy and returned the book to her designated room. Afterwards she went up to the roof of the tower where her pod was still sitting and she meditated while staring out at Dublin's city lights. About half an hour later and Rorek came out to join her.

He sat down on the crenellated wall with his legs swinging out over the side. His eyes gazed out at the view, waiting for her to acknowledge him first. She spent another ten minutes clearing herself and then she allowed her feet to touch ground once more.

"So…did you enjoy yourself a little at least?" she asked, leaning over in an unoccupied crenel to his left. He looked 'round at her, his eyes were smiling.

"I greatly enjoyed myself, My Lady." he told her. "I wished to thank you…and to apologize for our behavior. But…I wonder if you could understand just how monumental a change the petty action of throwing a ball of tarp at my head signifies. Yes, he insults me and makes jibes at me and threatens me with these 'paper cuts', but…compared to what he once was…the sort of fighting we once engaged in even after he was sealed in the book…" He shook his head. "I am hopeful, My Lady. I truly believe we can again forge a bond like what we once had."

"I'm glad." Raven told him. "Maybe by the end of this trip he'll be ready to come out of the book." She'd come quite far with her dreamscape lesson that morning. Tomorrow she would spend as much time as possible working on it. The sooner she got it down the sooner Malchior would no longer have to protect her in her dreams. He would draw his circle within her dreamscape and that would be that. They wouldn't need the one in his book anymore.

"Yes…"

"What was it like when you were close?" she asked.

Rorek sighed wistfully. "I am not sure it is possible to describe. I can try. Have you ever broken one of your hands before?" he asked. "Or, perhaps, had something happen to one of your hands that meant you could not use it?"

"I've sprained my wrist, yes." she answered.

"And you had to do everything with just the other hand. Imagine life as that one hand, never knowing that you were part of a set. Always doing everything by yourself sensing, but never quite realizing, that you were missing something. It was wonderful when you were able to use your other hand again, was it not? Suddenly everything is a lot easier. You are intended to have two hands. Your hands are meant to be a pair from the day you are born. It is not the best of analogies, I know, but it is as good as I can think of. We are _meant_ to be a pair. Ordinary twins – human children born from one mother at one time – may drift apart and find their own ways, their own lives. But not us. Separation is unnatural for us." he told her.

"Do you think it's true that you're one soul with two bodies?" Raven asked him curiously.

"I do not know, really. That is just one theory. Another is that two souls were accidentally in one body and they pushed apart to make two bodies." He seemed to think for a second. "There is this odd mark that I have seen before. I am not sure what it is called, but there is this circular shape and inside the circle there is an 'S' that is described by a black side and a white side. And in the black side there is a white dot where the curve is and in the white side there is a black dot where that curve is."

"That's a yin-yang symbol." she said.

"Ah, thank you. Well, imagine that mark is a silfron soul. The black is one soul while the white is another. And then you pull them apart, but part of the white is still with the black and part of the black is still with the white. Does that make sense?"

"I think so. I think I prefer that theory to the single-soul one. I can't see how you could survive if your own soul was at war with itself." she mused.

"Can't you? I have heard that some people tend to argue with themselves more than anyone else." he pointed out.

Raven chuckled lightly. "Yeah, maybe…" she mused. She swung her own legs out over the wall and leaned on the shoulder-high merlon that separated them, her arm wresting on top of it. "Do you ever think you would have been happier if you'd stayed in one body?" she asked.

"Often. And there are stories about silfron who have actually managed to join back into a single body. But I think you need to have a strong bond to do it. I am not too certain we could ever achieve it ourselves. We have been separated for too much of our existence. We have lived different lives, learned different lessons, know different things, and have different opinions. You could say we are a split-personality that has a body and brain for both personalities." he said. "But enough about us. Perhaps you might talk for a while? Tell me about your adopted little ones – and that was a cruel trick you played, by the way. Making us believe you had children…"

"I do have children."

"You know what I mean." he said, giving her a _Look_. She chuckled.

"Don't tell me you're upset about that too." she said. "Is the thought of me being a mother really so disturbing?"

"Not specifically." he said carefully. And then, _'It is the thought of you bearing another man's children that I take issue with.'_

Raven blinked. She hadn't heard those last words. He hadn't said them. And yet they hung in the air between them – like subtitles that she somehow read without the actual words being there. They were in the air and in her mind and they had come from him but…how?

Well that was weird. She usually only sensed emotions and they had to be pretty powerful for her to pick up on when she had her mental blocks in place. What was that about? She decided to ignore it for now and, should it happen again, try to block it with every fiber of her being. Mind-reading was the last power she wanted to develop as an active ability for _so_ many reasons.

She looked back out at the city lights. "Well…I guess I'm not really their mother. I can't be, not with my current occupation. But they're happy enough as things are. You could say I just sort of pretend they're my kids and they pretend I'm their mother and it works. It's better than nothing, anyway. I visit them often and buy them things and sometimes do things with them. The monks at the monastery are the ones raising and teaching them and they seem to be doing a good job."

"Do you ever wish you could raise them yourself?"

"I don't know…sometimes I think about it but…I wouldn't be any good as a real mother." she muttered, laying her head down on her arm and watching the distant flickering.

"You don't know that."

"And if I'm right? Who would suffer for that the most?"

He didn't have an answer for that.

"Anyway…their names are Melvin, Timmy Tantrum, and Teether. I first met them about two years ago when we were fighting the Brotherhood of Evil…"

(8)

A/N: Poor Raven. Malchior and Rorek have over a thousand years of sibling rivalry to catch up on and she's stuck in the middle. XD

I like this chapter much better than the last. I laughed myself silly when I came up with the 'math homework' bit (yes, sometimes I do laugh at my own jokes ^_^'). And, yes, Raven's continued association with the kids from 'Hide and Seek' was brought up purely for the opportunity of playing that cruel joke on Malchior and Rorek XD.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Stop right there or I'll give you a paper cut.

GUESS WHAT! Wednesday is a holiday! Meaning I don't have to work that day (well, at the moment they're saying we're off that day anyway). Meaning there's a chance I might get to update that day! Unfortunately there's also a chance I will be working the next Saturday because of the holiday so Squares might have to go on hiatus until busy time is over. We'll just have to see.


	21. Try Again

A/N: Ugh, worked 7am to 5pm and I skipped lunch so I wouldn't have to stay 'till 6. TIRED! But, there's a small chance (very small but still there) I might not have to work Saturday…if I go in early again Thursday and Friday and work through lunch and stay late…

You know, it's almost not worth being off today. X_X We just HAD to get all this work on the week of 4th of July!

(8)

_I confessed my crime to my king and the priests of more than one temple and yet found no solace in the words of these wise men. The scars from my ordeal with the emerald dragon had faded but the deepest of marks remained as evidence to them that my act was one of self-defense and therefore not murder. Still I could not banish the words the dragon had spoken before its death; words of regret, words of fear – fear of me. Was I the monster? The question plagued me until finally my king, in a show of favor I did not expect, offered me the solution to my turmoil._

_I would be granted the rare privilege of speaking directly to the High Priest of the dragons; an individual who was at once their bishop and their king. However, in order to earn such an honor I must complete three tasks. I agreed to this readily, though I knew what dangers I was likely to face._

_To my surprise, the dark lady who had haunted my thoughts before the nightmares asked me not to go. I almost bowed to her request…but I knew I could not. She did not press me further, but instead offered me a ribbon from her hair. I took it, and left her with a kiss upon her hand and a promise to return alive._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 21 – Try Again**

"How, exactly, does that work?" Raven asked.

"Think of a computer." Malchior answered. "A computer stores data, does it not? Its primary function is to remember things and do so without changing it unless such a change is specified by the user in some way, shape, or form. Now, consider your dreamscape to be a computer program or an image file or a document of some sort that sits in your mind but is protected from your brain's fallibility. For a computer, the file is stored in one place but it can be accessed by other places if you allow it. The permission gives other computers in your network permission to do so. I have given you permission to draw me into your dreamscape and that means that I am now on your network. All you have to do, now, is give me permission to enter your dreamscape and change things. You will be giving me 'read and write' permissions, you might say."

"I understand all of that. I'm just having difficulty understanding how you're able to do this without me being asleep." she said.

"You don't, _technically_, have to be asleep to use your dreamscape. It is simply advised because not everyone can operate properly when their attention is split between two worlds, as it were." he explained. "You can daydream into your dreamscape, you see. It's always going to be there whether you're sleeping or not."

"Alright, so will I be able to tell when you're in it?" she asked.

"Yes, and you can kick me back out with ease. You can also set boundaries, limit my ability to change things, and even ensure I can only enter when you draw me in." he explained.

"How?"

"I'll show you, I promise. For now, though, I would very much like to make sure no Tartarian gods can get near you even should you decide to go to sleep without me." he said.

Raven could see her dreamscape; she didn't even have to close her eyes to do it. It was all too easy to bring up and look at in her mind's eye. It was really weird having something in your head that you had to make a conscious effort to change, though. She could sort of see how it would also be easy to just step inside with an imaginary body that, due to the complexities of this magic and something to do with the mind's own personal knowledge of the body, somehow felt and acted very, very real. And she could do it without falling asleep, apparently. Well, if she thought about it then that was a bit obvious. Malchior didn't sleep, after all. _A__nd_ he could use his paper form while being in the dreamscape at the same time.

"You promise not to mess anything up?" she asked.

"I promise. Everything I do will be _outside_ your tower." he assured her.

"Alright."

It was weird, very weird, feeling him slip into that part of her mind where the dreamscape sat like some large rock in her brain. But what was even more disquieting was that he was doing it without bothering to pull his paper body back into the book. She saw a black dragon soaring around the tower she had constructed in her mind and she watched him land on a grassy field to begin the task of drawing a wide circle around said tower.

"Interesting texture." his paper form remarked. "Not the typical segmented blocks of stone, I notice."

"I figured there would be no point since I'm not making this tower in the normal way. I can give it any texture I want." she said.

"I like it. Very artistic."

"Ha ha."

"I mean it, Raven. I think you have a talent for abstract. All you need is some paint and something to throw it at."

"And you call that art?"

"It is amazing some of the patterns you can achieve when you let inertia and gravity determine what the paint does. But you have a good eye for designs. You should do more of them."

Raven thought about this. She had a marker in one of her belt's pockets. Hmmm…

"Raven, what are you doing?"

"Just doodling." she answered innocently.

"I suppose I asked for it, didn't I?"

"Pretty much."

She knew she shouldn't, but she really, really couldn't resist. Cyborg and Beast Boy had to be rubbing off on her because, no matter how hard she tried not to, Malchior's back was simply screaming for her to write 'kick me' in the midst of all her scrawls.

"I'm finished." Malchior announced a few minutes later.

"Just a minute…alright, done." she said, completing her current design.

"My turn!" he said, holding out a hand for the marker.

She just looked at him. "Sorry, do I look stupid to you?" she asked, keeping the marker held firmly in her hand.

He shrugged. "Worth a shot." he found the vanity mirror and examined his back. Raven couldn't stop the giggle. "Smashing, Raven. Just one thing," The words faded away as if the ink were being sucked into the paper itself.

"But that was the best part." Raven protested teasingly.

"You can do better." he told her.

Raven chuckled and went to lay across her borrowed bed. She closed her eyes.

It was fairly easy to slip into the dreamscape. All she really had to do was let her attention focus on it in a purposeful way and, for a few minutes, she felt aware of both her living body and the dreamscape one. This was such an odd and fascinating experience that she stayed in that state for a while. She even opened her eyes in reality and stared up at the ceiling. She was looking at the ceiling and looking around the top of her tower at the same time. It was…it was kind of like having two computer screens in the same place. Or, perhaps, like listening to two different songs at once. If you did it right, sort of let your mind go a bit loose, then you could, in fact, pay attention to both at the same time. But getting detail out of either world wasn't possible in this state. It was like opening your eyes up wide and trying to get a good look at several things on either side of your vision at once. It _could_ be possible, but she would need a lot more practice.

She closed her real eyes and let all her focus slip into the dreamscape.

The air felt stale and there was no wind. The stone beneath her feet was so cold it nipped at her through her boots, the wall of crystal mountains that described the border of this small flat world looked very odd from the inside, and her psychedelic sky with its many tiny suns didn't look quite as interesting and glamorous from this perspective as it had when she'd been creating it from the outside. It was very cold.

There was nothing on the top of the tower save the abstractly textured stone, a trap door, and the surrounding crenellation. But it was a very large tower. Plenty large enough for Malchior to have a comfortable perch. He landed lightly next to her and folded his wings.

"Why is it so cold?" she asked him, wrapping her cloak tightly around her.

"You must have forgotten to add heat." he answered, chuckling. "Here…" The air warmed itself as though a real sun had appeared in the sky and he even added some proper wind that freshened the air a bit. She smelled roses. Of course. What was it with him and roses?

"Thanks." she said. She looked up at the sky and frowned. She really didn't like the way it looked. From here it seemed very gaudy and perhaps a bit pretentious. Oh well. She concentrated, focused, and changed it to a dull gray with just enough texture in the sky to make it look like they were clouds. She darkened the pale blue color of the crystal mountains to a deep dull purple with just a bit of blue in the mix. Then, for some reason, it started to rain. Not heavily, but raining it was. "Um, are you doing this?"

Another chuckle. Malchior held a wing over her head to block the water. "No. It's you. You see you have put clouds in the sky. To your mind they are real clouds, and what do clouds do when they are that thick? They rain. Perhaps not all the time but at various intervals. Rain is the whole purpose of a cloud, after all."

"But my dreamscape isn't supposed to change like this without conscious thought." Raven pointed out.

"Is that why you keep a blue sky in your dreamscape?" she asked.

"Yes. Clouds rain. This is a fact that your mind knows and it is ingrained deeply into your sub-conscious. It takes some concentrating to tell your sub-conscious, and, incidentally, your dreamscape, that clouds _don't_ rain." he explained.

"So if I had made the cloud dark and a bit green there would be a heavy storm?" she asked.

"Indeed."

She sighed and concentrated again. The rain stopped as the sky faded into the bright sunless blue of Malchior's dreamscape. "I can play around with it later." she reasoned.

"Certainly. Now, what all do you have inside the tower? I'm curious now." he questioned.

"Not much. Just spaces right now." Big spaces. Spaces that had no business fitting inside such a small tower. But in her mind she knew that it was possible to put a large space into a small one so that had not been difficult.

"May I see?" he asked. "I am curious."

She shrugged. "I don't see why not." she mused. She went over to the trap door and pulled it open. It wasn't big enough for a dragon to fit through, but in a moment Malchior had taken on his human shape and was following her down the stairs.

"Hmm...could do with some walls." he remarked as they continued down the wide turning stone steps. "And a floor."

"There's a floor."

_Thud!_ "Ow!"

"You just can't see it."

"Very funny. Oof!"

"And that was a wall."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"I am, in fact."

"You could at least hang up some pictures or tapestries to indicate where the walls are."

"Why? I know where they are. I also know where the trap doors are." she told him, continuing towards a large spinning globe that marked the center of this space. It was meant to look like the planet Saturn, but in here it looked more like someone had cut a basket ball in half and shoved a large Frisbee between them. She turned around and chuckled when she saw Malchior standing still with his hands on his hips and looking irate. "Are you coming?" she asked sweetly.

"Only once I know I'm not going to fall into a bottomless pit." he stated.

"Don't worry Malchior." she told him. "All my pits have a bottom to them. With spikes."

"Not comforting."

"I'm joking. The only trap door is under the globe." she assured him.

"You know, I'm not sure I trust you." he said, and he levitated a few inches above the ground before flying over to her. She laughed and turned her attention to the globe thing.

She held a mental picture of Saturn firmly in her mind and, after a few minutes of concentration, she was able to shift the globe into a much better representation. The sphere itself looked like a large glass orb with misty purple and magenta smoke swirling inside while the rings became tiny silver pebbles orbiting the sphere together. There. That was much better.

She paused. "Do you hear something?"

"Someone's knocking on your door." Malchior answered.

Raven shifted her attention from the dreamscape to the physical world. She blinked a few times and sat up. She felt a bit like she'd been taking a nap and so was just slightly groggy as a result. She stretched a little and got up to answer the door.

It was Argent. "Hey," Argent cocked her head to one side. "Having fun in there?" she asked.

"Magical daydreaming. Did you need something?" Raven asked, rubbing an eye.

"Really? And here I thought you were practicing your face-painting. Looks wicked, by the way. Can you do mine?" she said.

"Face pa—" Raven slapped a hand to the side of her face (the wrong side, as it turned out) and realized she was no longer holding the black marker. "MALCHIOR!" A hoot of laughter was her response as she spun 'round and stalked over to the vanity mirror to survey the damage.

There was a half budded rose on her left cheek just below and to the side of her eye, a less-open bud just beneath her eye, and an even smaller bud just above her jawline, all connected to the same thorny briar that looped and twisted in the space between the buds. It was impressive work, it really was. Especially since all he'd had to work with was a sharpie. Still…

She gave Malchior a grumpy expression. "What is it with you and roses?" she grumbled.

"Do you take requests?" Argent, who had followed Raven inside, asked.

"Why certainly. What would you like?" Malchior asked pleasantly, twirling the marker around his paper fingers.

"I rather like lilies. Can you do lilies?"

Malchior raise an eyebrow, "What _kind_ of lily? There seem to be hundreds of that particular genus."

"Oriental lilies." she specified.

"Very well then. Hold still for a few minutes."

"I wish you wouldn't encourage him." Raven muttered. It wasn't permanent, was it? Hopefully soap would take it off.

She mentally glanced back at her dreamscape. She still had a sort of 'self' that was in there, but it was sort of like a doll in a playhouse. It didn't move, but she could move it to somewhere else if she wanted to and then put her consciousness back into it. Like this she was still able to look at all parts of the dreamscape and—hang on, what was that?

Roses. Malchior had grown his ring of rose bushes around the inner edge of the trench circle he had dug out. They weren't the neatly-trimmed kind you saw on TV either. They were wild growths that tangled in each others' briars with buds and blooms everywhere, taking over like an infestation. And they were blue; different shades of blue from a pale white-blue to a very deep and dark blue that seemed to have a bit of violet in it. There was no such thing as a blue rose unless it was genetically, alchemically, or magically altered. But blue was her favorite color and he knew it.

She wished he would stop. She wished they would both stop.

She had enjoyed talking to Rorek on the roof. They'd sat there for hours and just…talked. She'd told him about the kids, the Brotherhood of Evil, and a few other things. After that he had talked a bit about what life was like for magic-users back in his time. From what he told her it seemed that some magic-users, usually the most powerful, typically went from court to court with the purpose of providing services to the kings, princes, dukes, barons, and so on, acting as ambassadors and, to be honest, spies. You always declared your primary allegiance, however. One was always someone of somewhere. Like, for example, 'Merlin of Camelot'. Courtly mages shed their family names and took on the name of whatever court they served primarily. Sometimes this would change, but Rorek had, in all his time as a courtly mage, been 'Rorel of Nahl' and his primary lord was King Hrunting. Then, sometime after he and Malchior had found one another, he left the role of a courtly mage to become a knight. They'd both become knights, in fact.

"Knights? Mages could become knights?" she'd asked.

"Oh yes, My Lady. In fact, back in our time, _most_ knights were mages or, at the very least, had some arcane talents. You see, the defined role of a knight has changed over time. What you think of as a 'knight' and what we knew ourselves to be are two rather different things. Back then a knight was any man or woman ordained by the Church and sworn to the extermination of Blood Magic…as well as other dark arts that I would rather not detail. Armor was essential for it was a convenient way of ensuring one had enough iron to deaden the worst effects of these magics – though I do have some passing knowledge of how to wield a real sword. I believe the reason the title of 'knight' became one of nobility and land ownership is due to the growing tradition of granting such things to those of us who managed to survive long enough in this line of work to be rewarded for it."

"Why did you suddenly decide to become a knight, then?"

"There was a need. A great need. And we were not the only dragons to don the guise of humanity for the purposes of assisting in this fashion. Besides that, King Hrunting died soon after Malchior and I united and I had no true love for the prince who took the crown in his place. Neither had he any love of me, to be honest. I do not believe I would have remained one way or the other."

And then he had started asking her…questions. Not prying questions but ones that, in a round-about way, seemed to contain the answers to questions that, if spoken outright, _would_ be prying. And he'd done so in such a clever way that she hadn't caught it immediately. Like when he'd told her about Eulsmir, a sorceress that he'd fallen in love with in the court of King Yord in the land of Elti. Somehow he'd gotten her to admit that she had no past or present romantic interests in anyone (save, perhaps, present company and his red-eyed twin, but she wasn't about to say that to _him_ was she?). She'd gotten him back for that by mentioning her crush on Thor, but she'd had to add that it'd only been temporary since Thor himself had his eye on Argent.

Argent inspected her finished flower pattern in the room's vanity mirror and gave Malchior a thumbs-up. Then she turned to Raven. "Actually what I really came here for was to see if you wanted to listen to Lady Eisen."

"Who?"

"It's that band I was telling you about. The one I have VIP tickets to see this Friday? Remember you promised to come?"

"Oh, right. I sort of forgot what they were called. Sorry." Raven said.

"No worries. Here's a CD. The computer in this room isn't great but it can play a CD well enough." Argent told her.

"Alright, thanks." She took the CD. "Hey Malchior, why don't you go see if anyone else would like their face marked up?" she asked, grabbing the book and handing it over to Argent.

"I seriously doubt anyone else wants flowers on their faces." Malchior stated.

"That didn't stop you putting one on my face." Raven pointed out.

"Oh I don't know, I think Thor might like some Celtic war paint or something." Argent suggested.

"Celts had war paint?" Raven asked curiously.

"How should I know?" Argent demanded.

"You live in Ireland? And anyway, Thor's theme is Nordic, not Celtic."

"What's the difference?"

"Geography, culture, history, religion…" Malchior listed.

"Whatever. So which one had the Vikings?"

"Norse." Malchior answered slowly and carefully.

"So, Viking war paint? Oh whatever. He'll know what he wants." Argent said, walking out the door with the book.

"I don't remember agreeing to this." Malchior stated irritably as the book's limited range began to drag him after Argent.

"That's what happens when you're tethered to a book." Raven said.

"I don't have to be cooperative." he informed her. His back hit the wall next to the door since Argent was obviously walking down the hall. Then he got dragged along the wall until he came up against the corner. For a moment nothing happened after that, and then a red hand came through the door, grabbed Malchior, and carried him out said door. "This is hardly dignified!" he protested loudly.

Raven just laughed. It was mean but, well, how else was she going to get him out of her room? It would be good for him to try socializing without her around. She wasn't the only person in the world, after all.

She sat down at the spare computer that was in her room, booted it up, and put the CD in to listen to. It was pretty good. It probably wasn't going to become a favorite but she might buy some mp3s to mix into her playlists.

She really didn't do concerts, though. Too many people, too much noise, too much energy, and all the emotions turning the air into a miasma…

But Argent wanted someone to go with and Raven would be the first to admit she could do with more girl friends. There was Starfire, Abby was a sort-of-kind-of, and that part of the world that counted Jinx as her friend had a bipolar on-off switch. She liked to think of Argent as her friend but the two of them really didn't talk a whole lot. Neither of them were talky people and neither of them were the kind of people that made contact with other people for the sole purpose of socializing.

She'd go. Well she'd promised to after all. But she'd also do her best to enjoy it for Argent's sake. She had about two days to mentally prepare herself.

In the mean time she was going to take a bar of soap to the marker on her face and hope no one noticed.

(O)

"You are getting nowhere near my face with that marking tool!"

"Come now! I am very good at flowers. You like flowers don't you, Pretty Boy?"

"Not on my face I do not!"

"You just don't want everyone to see how girly you really look under that scarf! Come on! How about tulips?"

"You shouldn't keep calling me girly. We have the same face, you know!"

"My coloring is manlier than yours. Look, black marker, perhaps we can adjust _your_ coloring a bit!"

"_Vohaalvut diiom_!"

"Vahdinluft faasfiik!"

"What did they say?" Argent asked, looking at Raven.

"Rorek told Malchior not to touch his hair and Malchior teased Rorek about being scared to show his girly face." Raven answered.

"This is better than TV." Thor volunteered with a chuckle.

"What would happen if—" Belladonna began, and then the siren went off. She made a grumpy face.

"Jewelry store robbery. South Bulgaria." Thanatos said softly after checking the computer.

"Would you like to come with us, Malchior? You can show us this paper cut technique you are so fond of." Rorek asked.

Malchior leered at him. "Alright. Challenge accepted."

"Um…I'm not so sure this is a good idea…" Raven began.

(O)

"I knew that wasn't a good idea."

"In my defense I _did_ warn him."

"Yes, but I don't think, 'stop right there or I'll give you a paper cut', said in such a bored tone of voice, seems entirely threatening, do you? Thor, stop laughing. This is _not_ funny."

"Did you see the look on his face?-! It was priceless!"

"Yeah, so was the blood gushing _from_ said face. And the screaming. I don't speak Bulgarian but I'm pretty sure he was saying something along the lines of, 'oh god the pain, the pain, someone kill me now, please just put me out of my misery'." Raven grumbled.

"Don't worry about it." Argent said, putting a hand on Raven's shoulder. "Thanatos has done worse, believe me. Around here the governments don't mind so much if the villains are missing a few bits and pieces. Stops them doing it again, I suppose. Or at least makes them think really hard about it first." she mused.

"Think of it this way: If they hadn't chosen to break the law in the first place it never would have happened. So, logically, it was a self-inflicted injury." Malchior stated. "Well…injuries." he added for the sake of accuracy.

Raven just sighed and slipped her arms out of the book bag's straps. "I really wish you could carry your own book, sometimes." she muttered.

"You and me both."

"You know, I'm sure there's got to be some way of freeing you from that book." Argent said.

"There is. It's just taking us a while to get things prepped." Raven explained.

"C'est magnifique! Do you zink he will be freed soon?" Belladonna asked eagerly.

"Maybe. Is anyone else hungry?" Raven asked.

"No. Not at all."

"Ha ha, Malchior."

(O)

"I could release you right now, you know."

"I know."

"You don't have to stay in the book for my sake anymore. I have my own dreamscape now."

"Yes. I know."

"They just need to clear out a few more things in that third room and you could stay there for now. Then when we get back home…"

"I know."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Malchior…"

He sighed heavily, not looking at her. "Can we talk about this later?" he asked her.

She sighed as well. "He wants to have a relationship with you again, Malchior." she told him. "He told me that Silfron aren't meant to be separate. You're a pair, and he wants to have that again. Don't you?" she asked.

He stared fixedly at the carpet. It was a silvery gray in this room with walls that were painted a faded pastel blue, all save for the back wall with the single glass window in it. It curved slightly and was polished stone. Not plaster or wood but solid stone. The room itself was pretty bare save for a decorative tapestry along one wall. It had a bed, a vanity desk, a dresser, a computer desk with chair, and a wardrobe. That was about it. It was a serviceable room, but he was already missing the awkward dimensions, alternative decoration, and the bookshelves full of more than just books – though there were plenty of them too.

"I don't know." he finally admitted.

"What's holding you back?"

He closed his eyes so that his visual senses picked up only darkness. The memory was sharp and biting. All he wanted to do was be rid of it but it wouldn't go away.

"_No! Don't go! Come back, please! Please don't leave me alone!-!-!"_

"I left…" he murmured.

He felt her hand on his arm. "I think he'll forgive you." she said softly.

"There's a lot to forgive, Raven." he whispered.

"Is a thousand-year imprisonment not punishment enough?" she asked.

Perhaps it was. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it was time to put all of this behind them.

"Do you want to talk to him?"

No, he didn't. He wanted Rorek to simply _not be here_. He wanted him to disappear and vanish into history. Then there would be no one to remember his crimes. Raven would be his and his alone…

That was a lie. It wasn't Rorek he wanted to vanish. It was the memories. The pain, his crimes, the times of…_twisting_. Of _her_…But they were not going to go away simply by wishing them gone. They'd never go away. But there was a way to make them hurt less, matter less, _be_ less. And that was to face it and deal with it.

Perhaps it was time to swallow his pride and ask forgiveness. It was easier, _so much easier_, said than done. There was a lot to swallow, there was a lot to ask, but he'd done this before, hadn't he?

_Yes, but that had been with Raven._ he told himself. It'd all been with Raven. Raven was a special case.

He waited a moment, but that other part of him was curiously silent. He felt a bit let down from that. Looked like it was up to him to make the right decision. Why was the right thing so hard?

_Because anything worth having demands a price._ he answered himself.

_There you are. I was wondering where you went._

Anything worth having is worth working for.

Finally he looked at Raven. He nodded.

(O)

She'd found Rorek in his room. That was lucky; it meant she didn't have to think up some excuse to get him alone with Malchior's book hidden in one of her sub-space pockets. She had left the book with him after a short explanation, placed a silencing barrier around the room, and left them alone.

It wasn't going very well.

_**So! Lowly criminal  
Please tell me how do you plead**_

_Now honorable judges ladies  
Gentlemen of the jury  
Please allow me to present my case_

She'd given them a full silencing barrier this time. It kept sound from getting out of the room but it wasn't blocking the roaring in her mind. She couldn't understand it but she could _feel_ the Draconic language; she could feel the anger and frustration behind it. There was also pain, pain that she wanted to stop. She wanted to stop it all but she resisted.

_**Ha! What case may you possibly present  
To rip a man from his family, faith, and friends?  
Defense?**_

_Listen before you convict  
You see I never did intend to ruin anything_

Things had to hurt to heal. She should leave them to get through it themselves. All the same, there were times when the hardest thing to do was nothing.

_**The intent is a guilty conscience's**_

_**White flag against pride  
So I find  
You are guilty of the crimes.**_

_I know although I don't believe  
It's not only my afterlife I bereave  
**(Appeals will be denied!)**_

She waited. She had even pulled out her heaviest music to listen to in an attempt to drown out the dragon roaring. Or, at the very least, pretend that the roaring was part of the song. She kind of liked this one. Screamo music wasn't really her thing but she could cope with songs that had both screaming and singing in the mix.

_**The line of duty  
Calls for  
Enforcement of laws  
So you're  
Our property now  
INTELLIGENCE HAS FAILED YOU SOMEHOW!  
Oh what a shame that  
You play this game!**_

Maybe she should go stand at the door. Maybe not. She wanted to help, but how much help should she give before it was too much and they needed her around to prevent them from trying to rip each others' faces off? They couldn't rely on her. She might not be around all the time.

_Through senses  
What can we explain?  
Not joy, not guilt, not pain  
Is love the same?_

_This senseless  
Argument in vain  
Erodes my sense of shame  
Who's to blame?_

All the same, what if they let Malchior free and the two of them started fighting like they did before? The T-Tower would be first that got destroyed, especially if they decided to turn into dragons and started shooting fire and ice at one another. Raven knew what happened to something when it was cooked then frozen in swift succession and vise-versa. When you put fire and ice together they canceled each other out, but using one after the other could have some _very_ interesting effects.

_Thank you pain! (For crippling my body)  
God bless suffering!  
Thank you pain! (For freeing my brain)  
For preventing me from returning to the source again!_

How much was too much help? How much was too little? Was the arguing getting louder? Maybe she should just check on them…

_**So it shall be!  
Now do you see  
The error of your ways?  
Of Rats and Men you speak  
Standing up tall but you are weak  
A smiling thief!**_

_**We are all murderers you see  
But you let taboo human chemistry  
Blind your needs  
Live is greed!  
Logic won't concede  
Think about the statistics you feed  
Think before you plead**_

_('Thank You, Pain' by The Agonist)_

Suddenly it stopped. Was that a good sign? No, it wasn't. Not a sudden stop like that. She shut off her music and all but ran to the other room.

She found them in much the same position as last time: Silent, angry, not looking at one another, and with strange expressions in their eyes. Well, apparently trying to let them work it out for themselves wasn't working. But, in the end, it really was up to them whether they wanted this or not. What should she do? What could she do? Force them to work it out? Yell at them a bit herself? Close the door, bar it up, and tell them they couldn't come out until they were brothers again?

Or should she just pick up Malchior's book and walk away silently like she did the last time?

Either option could so easily be the wrong way to go, but the latter was safest. She just wished she knew if they needed gentle or forceful help right now. So she walked into the room, picked up the book, and walked back out with Malchior following her. He closed the door for her and probably did so with more force than she would have. Then they went back into her room, which already had a silencing barrier for her stay. She turned to Malchior.

"Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to but if you do…"

"Actually, no, I _don't_ want to talk about it. I want to rant and yell about it. Is that okay?" His voice was almost frighteningly calm. In her mind it felt like the level surface of lava that had nowhere to go and was going to start moving upward with great enthusiasm any minute now. That was probably a good description considering his, well, request.

So she grabbed the one chair in her borrowed room and sat down facing him, deciding to treat this like one of Cyborg's outbreaks. She wouldn't say anything. She wouldn't try to calm him down. She would just let him rant and rage and say everything that was on his mind without judging him for it and without taking him too seriously. Sometimes when you let people just come out and _say_ what they were thinking then they would realize how true or – more usually – how false it was.

She nodded. And the mountain erupted.

(8)

A/N: Paper cuts really do hurt, I know this. I work with paper – lots of paper – paper is my life. And when you run a finger along a stack that you didn't realize had just a little bit sticking out right around the area your finger is going then suddenly you've got to learn real quick how to type with one of those weird fingertip bandages that look very much like a tiny diaper.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
_She's_ beautiful. You're just pretty.

The stupid cover for this fanfic is giving me some problems. I have the background all nice and set up but I keep changing my mind about what else I want to put on it! So I'm just putting up the background for the time being so you don't have to keep looking at my face instead, lol. XD


	22. Release

A/N: Huh, I seem to be getting some of my alerts a bit late. Oh well! I'm sure they'll fix that soon.

(8)

_Madam Crow was, yet again, my surprise companion on my new journey and I was grateful for her. My first task took me to a mountainous region where the sight of soaring dragons overhead was a common one. At times we viewed as many as two within the day. Not long ago the sight of a dragon in the sky brought me a sense of contentment and wonder. Now they only reminded me of my task and brought my nightmares into sharp relief._

_The caverns that were my destination were dark and foreboding. They became more so when my companion offered her regrets that she could not join me. But she gave me a curious map that created itself as I walked forward with it in my possession and this item proved to be my salvation in the maze ahead._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 22 – Release**

It started with a torrent of name-calling, for the most part. Malchior shouted things in a mixture of English and Draconic and most of them were curses, rather nasty words, or a mixture of both. He didn't actually _cuss_, not in English anyway. But you could curse without actually using any profanity. 'May he repeatedly bang his head upon various objects of a solidity that is equal to or greater than that of lead, each time in the same exact spot so that a permanent welt shall mar his oh-so-perfect face!', was one such example, though the Draconic version was a lot shorter.

Eventually it started winding down and Raven managed to insert the question of what actually _happened_ in-between a pause for breath – which had to be a habit even a thousand years of being paper couldn't break rather than a necessity.

"I apologized, or I tried to! I tried to tell him I was sorry but he wouldn't listen! He insists that it was his fault, that _I_ should be forgiving _him_!"

"What do you mean?"

"He says it was his fault, all of it, because he 'pushed me away'! Do you have any idea how insulting that is?-! It's like I didn't have a choice in the matter! Like everything I did was because of _him_ and _his_ mistakes dictated all of my actions! Self-absorbed arrogant prick! _He_ didn't make me leave! If I hadn't wanted to leave then there was nothing he could have done to force me! It was _my choice_! _I_ did it! _Me_! Not him! It's like he thinks I'm some disobedient part of him that he has to take responsibility for! That I'm not a real person – not my _own_ person responsible for my _own_ sins!"

"_Did_ he push you away?"

"That's not the point! The point is I left! I could have stayed, Raven. We're not like human twins – separation like this is unnatural and so I had every right to stay and refuse to let him have his way. But I didn't. I left. And then I became the Dread Dragon. _Me_, not him! And when he came to find me I ignored him! I turned my back on him! I even tried to kill him. But it was all _my doing_. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"He's always been like this! Ever since it happened…ever since we found each other again he's acted like I'm some detached growth of him that needs to be looked after! Like a pet that walks and talks and has to be _handled_. I have just as much individuality and free will as he does! But he acts like I'm half of what he is! Like he's the real person and I'm just the hanger-on! The shadow! The evil twin! Something of that nature!"

Raven was sure Rorek didn't actually think like that (at least she _hoped_ he didn't or she'd be having her own words with him), but saying so wouldn't help until Malchior had calmed down. Probably Malchior didn't honestly think that either; they were just thoughts bubbling up in him that he had to speak so he could be rid of them. She had a lot of those herself that she sorted out through meditation. It was like the mind wasn't just one voice but hundreds of voices and the part of you that did the joined up thinking had to fight constantly to stay on top. But you always had the strays, the parts of your mind that seemed to do their own thinking and came out with random things that the general whole may or may not actually believe. These thoughts were heard nonetheless and they could become a canker in your head. Especially if they weren't true. The best way to get rid of them was to let them out and preferably to someone who wouldn't judge you for them.

"Yes! Perhaps if I were honest with myself then I _would_ like us to be brothers again! But if he's going to treat me like I'm not enough of a person to deserve the right to apologize then it is not going to happen!"

Not for the first time did Raven wonder at Malchior's slightly _different_ way of thinking. It seemed a bit…flipped, but at the same time it made an odd sort of sense. Perhaps even a lot of sense. Telling Malchior he wasn't responsible for his own actions did seem a bit like…well, like treating him as though he was a child who didn't know better. Malchior was right. There was always a choice.

It seemed they were getting to the end now. He was deflating both in tone and in posture. She stood up and walked over to him, touching him gently on the arm. It always seemed to calm him down when she did that. It was kind of strange. Rorek did not like physical touch but Malchior appeared to find some comfort in it. Though a rather annoying part of her mind (one of those stray thoughts thinking other things without permission) was telling her that it was probably _her_ touch, specifically, that he liked. She ignored it.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as that." she murmured softly.

"I hope you are right. But honestly, Raven, I don't know. Once I knew him so well…once we were so close, our bond so strong, that we shared our thoughts. Once it almost felt as though we were one person with two bodies that had two minds to think with. It was wonderful." He sighed and looked at her. "You know most dragons tend to consider silfron as being cursed."

"Cursed? Why?" she asked. "What's wrong with it?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. I suppose the word 'cursed' isn't a good term to use. Dragons have several words for 'cursed'. There is 'kopraanvol', which is likely what one generally thinks of when you hear the word 'cursed'. But what we are is 'lasskrosis'. And it means that our existence is simply more troubled than it might otherwise have been. Like a child born with a lame leg. We are not _a_ curse, and it is not assumed that we are somehow evil because of what we are or that this affliction is a judgment of some sort. It is simply that there are many problems we have to face which are not an issue for others." he explained. "We are individuals…and yet at the same time not entirely so." He sighed again. There was a lot of sighing going on lately. "It is hard to describe. It is hard to explain. Try explaining the concept of walking to a snake. Or of seeing to someone who has been blind all their life."

She nodded. "I'll talk to him." she promised.

"I wish you didn't have to." he admitted. "It is not fair of us to shove you into the middle like this. This is our mess. _We_ should be cleaning it up. _We_ should be dealing with this ourselves."

"You are dealing with it. But what makes you think you have to do so alone? What makes you think that you're somehow _less_ if you need help? _Everyone_ needs help, Malchior. People aren't meant to be alone. Even those of us who _aren't_ silfron." she told him.

He touched her cheek, his expression was soft and a bit sorrowful. "You understand that better than most, don't you?" he murmured.

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess I would…"

"Raven…I'm sorry."

She was going to ask him what he was sorry for, but knew she didn't need to. His tone and expression told her what he meant well enough. "I forgave you, Malchior. How many times do I have to tell you?" she asked.

"As many times as it takes me to forgive myself, I suppose." he answered.

And then she understood. Not all of it, she still needed to talk to Rorek. But she was pretty sure she knew what the real problem was. She just needed a bit more information to know if she was right.

(O)

When Rorek answered the door his expression seemed dull and neutral, but his emotions were in turmoil. "Do you want to talk?" she asked gently.

'_With you, Lady? Always.'_

She blinked. There it was again! What was that? He had not said those words, she knew he hadn't, and yet there they were all the same – hanging in the air as though he _had_. She mentally shook herself as he nodded mutely to her and stepped aside to allow her into his temporary room. He closed the door behind her.

"I am…afraid it was a bit worse that time." he said with a sigh.

"Yeah, I heard." she admitted.

His eyes went wide. "You heard? I thought you placed a silencing barrier around the chamber."

"Well, I didn't exactly _hear_ so much as _feel_." she explained. "At least when you started shouting at each other in Draconic."

"You _felt_ that? Are _you_ a dragon?" he asked her in amazement.

"No. Not me. I'm just good with languages, I suppose." she answered.

"Are you sure? It is possible that you might be and simply not know it." he told her.

"I've had this conversation with Malchior already. I'm sure I'm not a dragon. I wouldn't have a problem with it if I _was_, don't get me wrong. But I'm not." she told him. "So, what's wrong?" she asked.

He looked away. "What did Malchior tell you?" he asked almost bitterly.

"He…" she paused. Should she say it so soon? She had intended to let Rorek tell her his side first and then let him know how Malchior was feeling. Oh well. She took a deep breath. "He feels like you don't think of him as an actual person."

"Wh-what?-!" Rorek gasped. Whatever he'd been expecting that had _not_ been it. She couldn't see any more expression than what his eyes gave her, but she was quite sure his mouth was hanging open. "How—why—what do you mean?-! How can he think that?-!"

"He told me that he tried to apologize…for leaving. But you wouldn't let him because you're saying that you drove him away and it's all your fault." she said calmly.

"But Lady, I _did_ drive him away!" he cried out, gripping his own hair in anguish. "It _is_ my fault he left! It was all my fault! _I_ broke our bond, _I_ shoved him aside. It was me!"

Raven sighed. "I want to help you Rorek, you and Malchior both. But I'm not sure how much help I can be if you don't tell me what happened. He says it's his fault, you say it's your fault, probably it's both of you but I can't help you resolve this if I don't know the underlying circumstances."

Rorek sat down on the edge of his bed, hung his head so that what little of his face was visible was hidden behind his white locks. He went even further to hide himself by burying his face in his hands. "I will tell you…" he murmured softly. "But you must know that I fear your judgment. You will think less of me."

She sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. That much was alright, she knew. Nightwing had done it, after all. Though she noticed Rorek didn't tense when she put her hand there like he had with Nightwing. "I'm not here to judge." she stated. "And whatever you've done you've already paid for with a thousand-year imprisonment. What you're dealing with now is the emotional aftermath. I'm not going to think less of you." she promised, taking her hand back.

He sighed, glanced at her through the locks of his long bangs, and turned his gaze to hands that were now hanging over the inward sides of his legs. "There was…I…" He sighed again, shook his head, took a deep breath, and sat up straight. "There was…a woman…Vergonda…"

_Oh… _she thought, carefully keeping her expression neutral in case he glanced at her. When he didn't go on she offered, "You were both in love with the same woman?" It wasn't a hard conclusion to come to. A frog with no back legs could have made _that_ particular leap. But…he shook his head, this time in denial.

"If only, My Lady." he answered. "No…_I_ loved her, or I thought I did. He…he _hated_ her. He could not stand her. And so he did everything in his power to drive us apart, to chase her away. Everything short of outright violence. And it was not merely outward things he would do or say, no. He filled my head with his scornful thoughts. And they were terrible thoughts, hideous things I did not want to hear. Things that were all the worse because of their truth. But I…I would not listen. I was…an idiot." His hands went back to his face. "There is no excuse for what I did. There are reasons but no excuses. I chose her over him. I cut him out, thinking that I could be with her once he had departed. _I_ broke our bond, do you see? And then I pushed him away; made sure he knew he was no longer welcome. So he left and I cannot blame him. I cannot accept his apology because I _made_ him leave. And then when he was gone…it took me months to realize what I had done. Months to realize that he was right and Vergonda was a serpent feasting upon my weaknesses. I left her and sought him out but by that time it was too late. He had become a Dread Dragon, and when I found him he turned from me just as I had turned from him.

"We fought." he went on. "From then on we fought every time I found him again. Yet despite how much we had come to hate one another we could not kill the other because we would be killing a bit of ourselves as well. Though perhaps we would not have been able to do it had we been ordinary brothers. I would like to think that. Finally I sealed him in the white book, my diary. Not long after a friend sealed me in the black book, though for an entirely different reason under entirely different circumstances." he added.

What if they'd both been in love with the same girl? Would things have been better or worse?

Worse, she decided. They'd have started fighting from the get-go, wouldn't they? If she—

_Stop it._ she snapped at herself angrily. _This isn't about you and what you want. It's about them. Stop being so selfish and stop thinking about yourself!_

She was going to have to use Nevermore again soon. These feelings _had_ to be set aside.

"I think I understand." she said.

"What do you understand, Lady Raven?" he asked.

"You're both at fault here, Rorek. Not just you, and not just Malchior. Yes, perhaps you started it, but Malchior _could_ have handled the situation so much better. He could have been gentle about it, acted civil, waited for you to figure things out without needling at you and being bitter and hateful. He also could have stayed, refused to leave. That is what he told me: That you had no right to tell him to leave you and he had every right to stay. He _could_ have stayed whether you wanted him to or not. And you could have realized that your relationship with your brother, your silfron, was more important than some woman. You're both at fault, you're both to blame, you both need to apologize, you both need to forgive the other, and, most importantly of all, you both need to _forgive yourselves_."

He was silent for a long time, thinking. When he didn't respond for several minutes she touched his shoulder again, but only briefly. Then she stood up. He stood up as well in a sudden, startled jerk.

"Lady Raven, I…" he gasped out. _'Don't go. Don't leave me alone, please.'_

She hesitated. Then said, "How many times do I have to tell you, you don't have to call me 'Lady'?"

His eyes gave her a tired smile. "Many more, it is likely. Forgive my habits. All sorceresses, especially the courtly ones, were 'Lady', even to the rulers. It was a necessary standard, as you can no doubt imagine."

"And the sorcerers?" she asked.

"Only the most powerful and influential were 'Lord', I'm afraid." he answered.

"Meaning you?" she guessed with a smirk.

"Ah, but you see, I did not remain a courtly mage. And 'knight' only became a title of nobility sometime after my imprisonment."

"You didn't specify that this was a qualification. Just that being a courtly sorceress guaranteed it. But you would still have been a powerful sorcerer even outside the courts, hmmm? So that would make you My L—"

"Do not dare!" he cut in. "I have the excuse of habit, decades of it. You do not." he informed her.

"Your point, My Lord?" she asked, unable to stop the teasing grin.

"Stop that! I am not your 'Lord' and neither would you be required to call me such in the courts. You are more powerful than I and would therefore be my superior." he stated.

"But you're older than I am." she pointed out. "Older and in possession of far more magical knowledge."

"Knowledge that did me little good when we fought, if you recall." he refuted. "Believe me, _My Lady_, if you had been born in my time even dragons would be wary of your power. My Thu'um did not stop _you_, I noticed."

"It didn't stop Starfire or Beast Boy, either." she said.

"Beast Man." he reminded her with a chuckle. "And no, perhaps it didn't, but it _did_ slow them down. You, on the other hand, were only momentarily effected." He cocked his head to one side and regarded her with some curiosity. "Why is that, I wonder. Do you know?"

She shrugged. "No idea. I mean, I didn't _feel_ immune to the Thu'um. I'm sure if you used 'Iiss' on me it'd freeze me solid just as it did Beast B-Man." she told him.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. You are _sure_ you do not have any dragon in you? Perhaps something of the Dov has managed to pass itself down the generations and has emerged in you rather more strongly than in most others."

"I…well…I suppose that could be _possible_…" she admitted. _At least on my mother's side. But I doubt it._ "Do the dragons, or Dov, have more defense against the Thu'um than others?"

"Not entirely, to be honest." he answered. "My Lady…I am beginning to suspect that you are hiding something." he said slowly.

"Everyone has secrets." she told him. And she wasn't sure she was quite ready for him to know this one. Him and Malchior both.

"Indeed." he agreed. "And I think we can both agree that I am no stranger to secrets myself. I am ashamed to admit I have quite a few more that I do not think I am ready to speak of. But…I would quite like to be one who might share yours. And I would take them to the grave, My Lady. I can promise you that." he told her.

It was tempting. _Really_ tempting. How nice would it be to just get this one last thing out in the open and _not_ feel like she still had something to hide? It had felt so…freeing when she'd finally admitted the truth to the other Titans. But…

Not yet. She knew she would have to tell them _sometime_ – especially if Batman didn't get the Church of Blood taken care of soon enough – but not yet. Not now.

"Maybe later…" she murmured, not looking at him.

"Of course." he agreed readily.

"I…sort of need to do some meditating." she told him. She _felt_ him freeze up. Not on the outside, but on the inside. "I think the other Titans are going to start another game of…er…I forgot what they called it again. That card game they made up."

"'Cutting', I think." he mused.

"Right…are you sure?"

"No, not at all. Perhaps I can remember it properly the next time I ask." he answered.

"Right, see you later." she said, turning towards his door.

"Raven…"

She hesitated. No 'Lady' this time, huh? "Yes?" she asked.

"Thank you."

She nodded and then left his room.

(O)

"Alright, here's how this is going to work:" she began, "I am going to sit here with my ears plugged up and my heaviest music turned up as loud as I can stand it. This means I am not going to hear a word you say. I am also going to read my book here, in which I have gotten myself to a very interesting part. This means I will not be looking at you either. In fact you are going to have to tap my shoulder a few times to get my attention. Any questions?"

"Yes, one: Why be in the room in the first place?" Malchior asked. "I'm not complaining, you understand, just curious."

"Because you two seem able to stay civil to one another while other people are present. I'm hoping this will somehow give you the illusion of company while at the same time granting you the privacy you need to really talk. I'm also hoping there won't be any shouting this time. You've done enough shouting. The moment I sense any Draconic shouting I will take my earphones out and listen in. So I hope whatever you have to say is important enough that it must be said despite the audience. Okay?"

The twins nodded their understanding and watched Raven settle in. Ears plugged, book up, she crossed her legs and proceeded to ignore them.

"Raven?" Malchior ventured. No response. He looked at Rorek, who coughed.

"I am sure we can trust her at her word." he said.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Eventually Rorek broke it.

"Why is it so much easier to talk to her than each other?" he wondered aloud.

"_She's_ beautiful. You're just pretty."

"Ha ha."

Another silence.

"Perhaps it's because she listens." Malchior volunteered reluctantly. "Neither of us are very good at that."

"I am sure it is a skill that can be learned." Rorek said.

More silence. They weren't looking at one another.

"I do not think of you as being less a person than I." Rorek told him.

"I know. But sometimes that's how it felt. You were always treating me like…like a child in an adult body. Like I had to be looked after and cared for all the time or something. It got on my nerves, you know. I'm no more a child than you."

Again there was silence. A busy silence.

"You do not remember…do you?" Rorek asked quietly.

"Remember what?"

(O)

"She _what_?-! How? That should not be possible!"

"You're telling me. You can imagine my shock when she did it, too."

"I never detailed that spell in the diary, though. How could she have learned it without the diagram in the grimoire? How could she have possibly made it work with nothing more than the words?-!"

"I don't know. I have reason to suspect that her father isn't or wasn't entirely human. She's pretty tight-lipped about it, though. It's a touchy subject."

The two of them looked over at Raven. She was still ignoring them, though. Her eyes were glued to her book and there was a black wire coming out of each ear attached to her communicator. The foot hanging down from her crossed leg was taping the air slightly. Malchior couldn't help but admire the boots. They were black and laced reaching half way up her calf with just enough heel to let his imagination have a bit of fun. He rather liked the skirt as well. Pity she'd added the black leggings.

"How are we going to handle this?" Rorek asked. Malchior didn't need to ask him what he was talking about. They were _both_ looking at Raven (specifically her legs, in Malchior's case).

"_Mine_." Malchior snarled, glaring daggers at his brother.

"You know that's not how this works." Rorek said calmly, _knowing_ he was repeating himself.

"Yes I know. That doesn't mean I have to like it." Malchior grumbled petulantly. He then walked over to Raven. Instead of taping her shoulder, however, he pulled out one of her ear plugs and held it close to his paper head so he could pick up the sounds coming from it. "Whatcha listening to?" he asked.

"It sounds so…odd when you use American slang like that. At first I thought you said 'wotcher'." Raven said.

"I rather like American slang. It's fun. I also like this music you're listening to. What is it?" he asked, pointing to the earphone.

"Mercyside by Tristania." she answered. She marked her place in her book and put it away. She then pulled out the other earphone. When she had put her communicator up as well she gave Rorek and Malchior an expectant look. "Are we done? No shouting, I notice."

"We've...come to an accord." Rorek told her.

"Yes. You can rest assured that from now on all our rivalry will be petty, immature, and mostly harmless." Malchior added.

"Good?" she offered uncertainly. "So…I can let you out of the book now?" She paused a moment. "You know, just a month or two ago I never thought I'd say that."

"Life's odd like that." Malchior mused.

"Yes, it is. So?" she pressed.

"So...what?" he asked innocently.

"Malchior."

"Yes Raven?"

"I'm kicking you out of the book. Tonight."

"Oh if you must." he sighed airily.

(O)

She hadn't had an audience the last time she did this and she felt just a bit nervous. She didn't often do serious magic like this with people watching. She typically restricted herself to spellfire, levitation, and other natural powers. But the Titans Europe liked Malchior and were happy he'd be freed in their tower. They wanted to witness the act itself.

So she set everything up in the living room where there was plenty of space for people to watch without getting too close. She drew a circle of crystal sand and lined it with candles that she lit with a match. For some reason, as she did this, she got the odd feeling that it would work just as well if she had battery-powered light bulbs. That didn't seem right, but the thought continued to nag at her as she went from candle to candle. Only afterwards did she realize she hadn't needed to light a second match.

Okay, that was odd. Shouldn't the match have gone out right after the second? Whatever.

Technically she didn't need any of this anyway. It _was_ her spell, after all. She could release him with just the words, she knew she could. But…she had an audience. The fancy props made her feel better. It was like a mask or a cloak; it was something to hide behind so she didn't feel quite so exposed. Besides, it had given her an excuse to use her new Damascus knife. Admittedly all she'd needed it for was to mix up the crystal sand and the various ingredients that tricked the magic into thinking it was one whole crystal and treating it as such, but she was using it nonetheless.

Why did she feel like a shard of broken glass would work just as well? What was going on in her head?

She pushed these thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. She tried not to think about it but it was nagging at her as she finished up. She went to the podium that held Malchior's book. It wasn't a podium, really. It was a music stand that Belladonna had helpfully provided, but it worked just as well. It kept the book upright and open. She noticed the words were in inked Draconic script, written with a brush in a very steady hand. Malchior must have changed it back.

"Ready." she told Malchior.

Paper flew out of the book and drew itself together in the middle of the circle, flying pages taking on the shape of a man with ink eyes. Raven took a deep breath, focused her thoughts on the task at hand, and recited the incantation.

_Hesberek et morine  
Gost wenthen verbis nex  
Ind obrium bis pendrule_

_Paran sic cortis rex!_

Spellfire flared, the living room lost its color as she released her power, and then the color crept back as though the grayscale quality of the world were some sort of substance that was being drawn into the circle where Malchior's paper form was surrounded by white light, the candle's fire streaming. Then the paper began to unravel within the white pillar just as it had last time. Unlike last time, however, claws and wings weren't emerging from the pillar. Instead a dark shape became visible, and then it stepped out. The light faded away. And _this time_ there was no collateral damage. Or flying paper.

He looked exactly as he did in the dreamscapes. He was Rorek's complete double in all but color and the stylized 'M' on his breastplate. Instead of silver his armor was stained a dark golden bronze. Instead of blue eyes he had red, instead of white hair he had black, and instead of a mild tan his skin was as white as Argent's, perhaps even paler. It was impossible to tell without the two standing side-by-side.

Malchior stretched his arms out and then looked down at his hands. "It feels good to be flesh again." he mused, wiggling his fingers about. "The paper did the job alright, but I feel so much more…_solid_ like this."

Raven put away the book and levitated everything else back into one of her sub-space gems. The music stand would be going back into Belladonna's room, though.

"So, now that you have your body back. What do you want to do first?" Argent asked, the Titans all drawing around to get a better look at Malchior.

Malchior considered this, staring off into space. "Hmmm…" he mused. And then, before anyone could so much as blink, he spun around and punched Rorek so hard in the jaw that the white-haired twin turned and hit the ground face-first with a loud 'oof!'. "That. Felt. _Good_." he said in the shocked silence that followed this.

"MALCHIOR!" Raven shouted disbelievingly. She grabbed Malchior by the hair and yanked it angrily.

"Ow! _Raveeeen_. What makes you think he didn't deserve that?" Malchior asked in an injured tone.

"In fact I did." Rorek said, pulling himself up onto his feet. He was rubbing his cheek through his cowl but otherwise he didn't seem badly hurt. At least not enough to alter his ability to talk. "It's alright. We have a lot of…ill will to work out. I suppose that was as good a start as any. If the rest of you would kindly get out of the way? I would not like anyone else to get hurt." he said, cracking his knuckles as he approached Malchior with a purpose.

Raven sighed and let go of Malchior's hair. "Alright, but take it outside, will you? And if either of you do any serious property damage with this then I swear I'll think up something horrible to subject the both of you to." she told them.

"As you command, My Lady." Rorek said with a bow. "Come, Brother, we can make our exit via the roof."

"I am so kicking your butt, Pretty Boy." Malchior informed him.

"I love how he's got the American expressions down but not the right accent for them." Argent chuckled.

Raven just sighed.

(8)

A/N: Well, Squares isn't happening again this weekend. Sorry. I've been working 10-hour days trying desperately to NOT have to work Saturday and am very tired and a bit overwhelmed. I got nothing. But you know what'll cheer me up? Reviews. :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Sure. A crowd of practiced and prospective magic-users will make the _perfect_ audience for Malchior and Rorek's tag-team comedy act complete with an after-show fist-fight.

To Whisper Dark Rose: Well, I don't think I can use all of that (or even most of it, to be honest) but you certainly got my brain fizzing with a few pretty cool ideas! Thanks! You wanna know what I think, though? You should totally get an account on FF and write some of your own Ror/Rae/Mal fanfiction! :D Must have more Malchior/Rorek…


	23. Concerts and Corsets

A/N: I've never worn a corset myself. I could use one to help fix my posture but the things are too freaking expensive.

Also, I've never been to a concert in Germany. Never been to Germany either, though I'm a big fan of German metal (shocker, huh?). So, once again, I apologize if I get stuff wrong.

(8)

_I encountered goblins for the first time and never had I beheld such a degenerated lot. They appeared to be deformed half-beings who stood to the height of dwarves yet at the same time it would take three of their number to equal the mass of same. My studies had taught me to expect violent and vicious attack, yet these creatures looked upon me as though I were a dream. They neither feared me nor did they attack me. I was simply there and they moved to make way for me as I passed._

_I requested the item I had been sent to obtain from the goblin who appeared to be wearing the most jewelry. When it spoke its gender became apparent and she told me to wait as she fetched it for me. She was true to her word. But as I waited in that gloom I felt as though eyes were upon me and that they were eyes which belonged to no corporeal thing. I sensed an approval of sorts that I did not understand and yet I was glad of it. There was an inexplicable feeling within me; palpable enough to be uneasily dismissed. I felt that I would not have left that cavern a living man were it not for this strange approval. It was something about the armor I wore but beyond that I understood nothing._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 23 – Concerts and Corsets**

She couldn't sleep.

She didn't know how she could be having trouble like this. One would think the dreamscape would make it easy. All she had to do was slip into it, right? Apparently not. Apparently if her mind didn't want her to rest then she couldn't even daydream herself into it and that was very annoying. Perhaps it had something to do with the way you couldn't always tell your brain to calm down think of other things when there was something specific that it really wanted to fixate on.

It'd been so easy last night. She hadn't had any trouble at all. Her mind had told her body that it was sleeping and as soon as her body got the message the dreamscape became somewhat clearer and she was able to use it the same way she'd used Malchior's. But now? Now she was having problems. She just couldn't seem to get comfortable. Every time she thought she might be drifting off enough to slip in some small thing, like the hum of the air conditioning or some flickering light outside her window, would jerk her back out. What was wrong? She hadn't had this problem in quite some time. Why start again now?

She knew the answer, and it hurt.

She needed to meditate. No she didn't, she needed to cry. She hadn't done that in a long time. Once upon a time she wouldn't be doing it at all; it would be too dangerous. But in the past few years she'd found that crying was sometimes better than meditation at clearing out all the troublesome emotions. It was, after all, the natural method ingrained in every human body.

She was missing Malchior. She hadn't realized just how…safe he had made her feel. But he wasn't in the book anymore. He wasn't there for their nighttime goodnight or to talk to her when she wasn't feeling tired enough to sleep yet. And now…she felt so uncomfortable without him sitting on her bedside table. She couldn't sleep. She just felt so…lonely.

What was she supposed to do about it? Slip into his room and curl up next to him? Out of the question. Oh he probably wouldn't mind (who was she kidding? He _definitely_ wouldn't mind), but he'd get the wrong idea – or rather he'd get the right idea which would be a bad idea.

Raven sighed and stared up at the ceiling. What if she slipped the white book under her pillow and just pretended he was there? What if she just let herself cry like she kind of wanted to?

She turned around and pressed her face into the pillow so that it muffled the sound and let the tears out. It felt good to let them go. She just sobbed; not hard, but there were tears nonetheless. A few minutes passed and she was already calming down.

She felt a hand on her back and started. She hadn't sensed anyone enter her room, but she hadn't exactly been paying attention either. "Raven…what's wrong?" asked a soft voice.

"Malchior, what are you doing in my room?" she asked, forcing some irritation in her voice. He was in her room without permission. She had to remember that. He was in her room without permission and he was fleshy now. That meant he really, _really_, shouldn't be there no matter how much she secretly wished he could stay.

"Wondering why you can't get to sleep. I've been waiting in your dreamscape to tell you goodnight for the past few hours. Why are you crying, Raven?" he asked, kneading her back with his hand.

"It's nothing…" she mumbled. "Sometimes girls just need to cry. I'm fine. Really. You shouldn't be in my room like this."

"Alright, let's say I believe you. Why can't you sleep?"

"I'm just feeling a bit restless. That's all. It happens."

"I don't believe you, Raven."

"Malchior, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Get off my bed!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"Off! This is hardly appropriate!"

"It's not like I haven't been here before."

"You were a book!-!-!"

They were sitting up on the bed now. She was trying to push him off but all that seemed to do was amuse him. He wasn't wearing his armor, just the black bodysuit beneath it and the trademark cowl. She felt hard muscles beneath the soft cloth. Muscles that didn't budge no matter how hard she pushed.

She didn't really want him to leave. But what was she supposed to do? Let him sleep over? Not an option.

"Some would consider the flesh to be an improvement." he mused. He reached out and she felt his fingers on her cheek, rubbing away the residual moisture. "At least you've stopped crying. Why were you crying, Raven? Why can't you sleep?"

_Because I think I'm in love with you again but the problem is I feel the same for Rorek and even if I could decide between you I don't want to drive you apart like the last girl did. Oh, and apparently I can't sleep without someone with a British accent bunking with me in my room anymore._ she thought. "I'm just having a bad night, Malchior. I'll be just fine in the morning." she said aloud.

"Mmm. You're sure it's not because you don't have me on your bedside table anymore?" he asked with _far_ too much insight. He leaned forward with a cocky smirk in his eyes.

"Cut that out and get off my bed, Malchior." she said, trying to push him off with a leg since her arms obviously didn't have enough strength.

He moved like a snake, slipping around her leg to her side where he scooped her up bridal-style. She let out a yelp and started to struggle against him, though her heart wasn't in it. He curled her into his lap with his back leaning against her headboard and held her firmly against his chest, refusing to let her go. His arms were secure and protective. The cloth he wore was soft with strong muscles beneath it. He smelled nice, too. It was a familiar scent, but she was having some trouble placing it.

Suddenly she realized how tired she was. Her mind was getting fuzzy and she couldn't quite remember why she'd been struggling in the first place. She felt so comfortable like this even though she knew she shouldn't. Tears shed, body fatigued, safe…warm…

"Why were you crying, Raven?" Malchior murmured. She could feel his fingers in her hair, rubbing at her scalp. It wasn't helping her stay awake. She thought she mumbled something but didn't know if it had actually come out and couldn't remember what she was going to say anyway. Her mind went dark.

(O)

She was asleep. That surprised him. It wasn't an unpleasant surprise, of course, but he hadn't intended that at all. He'd actually been about to start tickling her so this was…weird. Now why was it she suddenly felt restful enough to sleep when she should be about ready to blast him to pieces for taking such liberties? That was something to think about.

For now, though, he decided to enjoy this. He had Raven in his arms and she'd stopped struggling to get out. Of course he'd have to leave before anyone woke up. She wouldn't just stick to physical retribution if someone found out about this. For now...

He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Scent; that had been a very dull sense when he was paper. He'd gotten used to being without it but now it was like a splash of color in his head. Hers was amazing.

She didn't smell of flowers. Instead she smelled of incense, candles, various lingering chemicals from whatever bits of alchemy or magic she dabbled in, and then there was the part of her that was _her_. He focused on that part. Memorized it and implanted this memory as firmly as he could into his mind.

Then, from out of nowhere, a thought struck him. _She trusts me._

She would not be sleeping if she didn't. Her body wouldn't have let her if there was any part of her that felt truly threatened or worried by his being there. She'd only told him to leave because his presence in her room – at night, alone, in her bed, with no one else around – was, as she'd said, inappropriate. And it was. He knew it. But he wasn't going to do anything, not really. If he did she'd just rip him to pieces. She could, too. She was more powerful than he was.

And that was it, wasn't it? She had the power. She did not need to fear him. This was what Rorel had always struggled with. Without fear there was trust, with trust there came companionship, and companionship meant not being alone.

Humans feared dragons. That was a fact of life. No matter how pleasant or friendly one was there would always be that deep-seated fear of everything stronger which, to be fair, was there for a reason. It was only natural to fear the powerful. It was called self-preservation, and it wasn't always wrong. He remembered once telling Raven that there were those who feared power and so they called it 'dark'. And this was true. But sometimes fear was a good thing. It kept you safe. Sometimes when people called a power 'dark' it was meant as a warning. 'Dark' wasn't the same as 'evil', but just because something wasn't evil that did not mean it wasn't dangerous.

Raven did not fear. She did not even fear the dragon; not then and not now. But was that just for her power? She hadn't been this powerful before and she still faced him down with the fires of defiance and rage in her eyes. What fear she had was the proper kind of fear: A respectful wariness. Any other sort she simply locked away and left it there.

Yet no part of her could possibly fear him and allow her to fall asleep in his arms like this.

And then he wondered: Would she still be so comfortable with him if she knew the whole unedited story?

No. Probably not. Perhaps there were some secrets best left in the dark; best left a thousand years ago where they needn't trouble anyone any longer.

(O)

"Too bad I don't have any more tickets. You think Malchior and Rorek would have liked to come if I had?"

"Dunno. I think they like my music but it seems to be hit-and-miss depending on the band. That's how it is with Rorek anyway. By the way, Argent, contrary to popular belief, you _are_ supposed to be able to breathe in these things."

"Oh sorry, is it too tight?"

"I would not mind a bit of air, yes."

"Here, better?"

"Much. Are you sure I have to wear this?"

"It's metal, Raven. You'll look a bit odd in your cloak and spandex. Sorry. Lucky we were able to find something in your size on such short notice. I thought you'd fit into one of mine but apparently you've somehow managed to get spandex to hide rather than reveal."

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly spandex."

"There, how's that? Enough air?"

"Enough. Though if I ever wind up having to fight in this thing I might break it."

"Nah. I fight in mine all the time. They're stronger than you think, and are very good for your posture. It looks really good on you, by the way. You've got exactly the right shape for this sort of style, you know."

"Thanks but it's really more your style, not mine."

"Fair enough. Sure I can't talk you out of the turtle-neck you're wearing underneath?"

"_Very sure._"

"Why Raven, are you shy?"

"Who me? Oh no. I am completely comfortable showing off my body in ways designed to entice the reproductive instincts of any nearby male. I love being stared at like a piece of meat and having random pubescent-and-over men drooling all over my cleavage. That's why I wear the hood, cloak, and bodysuit."

Argent just chuckled. "Personally I just like to feel the cool air across my neck and shoulders when I fly." Raven grunted at this. She preferred to keep her neck covered when at all possible. The skin was a bit…sensitive there. "But super heroes have to have style of one sort or another. Just tell yourself you can't do worse than Wonder Woman. How she's able to manage with nothing more than two-thirds of a swimsuit I'll never understand."

This time Raven chuckled. "Well if she's comfortable like that then it's up to her."

The corset was black and simple. Beneath it she was wearing a black sleeveless turtleneck with long black arm warmers from wrist to shoulder, a pair of black leather pants, and some high-heeled boots that were, well, guess. She was having enough issues with the corset, and now there were the boots. Alright, so the heels weren't quite as much of a problem as she thought they'd be. Apparently she had more balance and poise than she first believed. That was probably because of all the exercising she'd been doing.

She still had her gems, though. They were more or less the only decoration and color her outfit had. She had her belt, the gems on her wrists where her arm warmers began, and the one that usually went on her cloak was fastened to the turtleneck at the base of her neck. She looked very plain next to Argent, who had gone all out with red ribbons, thigh-high boots, and some golden chains. But she didn't mind that. _She_ didn't like attention. Argent didn't care, she just liked to look how she liked to look.

Everything was going according to plan on the Nightwing + Starfire side of things. Cyborg and Beast Boy were now out of the tower and for once Jump City was being cooperative. It was just quiet enough that Nightwing didn't have any real excuse to call any of them back but not so quiet that he and Starfire had nothing to do. That was good. It meant that they weren't stuck in the tower all day every day developing cabin fever and getting on one another's nerves. Starfire _had_ called Raven about three times, though. Once to ask after Rorek and Malchior, once to ask why one batch of the flowers they'd planted smelled like rotting meat (Raven _had warned_ Starfire about the Venus Flytraps but they'd looked too interesting for the Tamaranian to pass up), and the last call had been to timidly and a bit nervously ask Raven when she thought she, Malchior, and Rorek might be coming back home. Raven was still wondering if that was a good sign. Perhaps it meant that things were starting to heat up between them to the point of being uncomfortable – which tended to happen just before the point of becoming a couple. Or maybe Starfire just missed Raven, which was a nice thought but an unhelpful one.

Oh well. At least one goal of this vacation had been achieved.

Argent sat Raven down at her personal vanity mirror to do her makeup but the two of them suddenly got a bit of a shock. As soon as Argent started trying to find a mix of foundation that would match Raven's skin color (which would probably have been impossible for anyone who _didn't_ collect tones as pale as fresh snow), Raven suddenly _did_ have makeup on. It was complete with black eye shadow, dark blue lipstick, _and_ black nail polish with gold designs painted on. Her hair hadn't crimped back up, but it did get thicker, shinier, and stopped developing tangles.

"Oooookayyy." Argent said slowly. "Did you do that?"

"I'm not sure." Raven admitted. "Probably yes and no. See, there's this magic-user that moved to Jump City. His name is Eric and he does makeovers. Magical makeovers that don't come off until you really want them to. Apparently they come back when you want them to as well." she observed.

"Huh, magical makeup. Now that's something I could get into. You know, magic seems to be getting a lot more popular lately." Argent mused.

"I've noticed that. It is kind of strange."

"It's kind of cool, actually. Little malls like Jump City's Wax Ribbon are popping up all over the place."

"Mmm, convenient."

"It is. I think the one here in Dublin finally opened up recently. You want to check it out tomorrow? We can bring the twins."

"Sure. A crowd of practiced and prospective magic-users will make the _perfect_ audience for Malchior and Rorek's tag-team comedy act complete with an after-show fist-fight."

Argent snickered. "Well, not much more to do here." she mused, looking at Raven's reflection.

"Thanks anyway. I wish I could help you with yours but you'd probably have better luck getting help from a trained monkey." Raven said, getting out of the chair so Argent could use it.

Finally they were ready. Raven wished that they could leave without being seen by anyone but Thanatos, who was sending them on their way since the concert was in Germany. But she knew that was a wish that could not be granted without an invisibility cloak or spell (which the twins would no doubt be able to detect). Sure enough, Malchior and Rorek were _both_ in the living room engaging in what was all-too-swiftly becoming their trademark past time – bickering. And they both looked 'round when Raven and Argent entered.

Well, at least the arguing stopped.

But the gasp of delight came from Belladonna, not any of the boys. "Mademoiselle Raven! You look absolutely fantastic! I hope you have great fun. Ze boys will not be able to resist you!"

Raven groaned and put a hand over her eyes, to Belladonna's confusion. "I was afraid of that. Is it too late to change my mind about this?" she asked.

"Yes it is. Come on." Argent answered with a chuckle. She took Raven by the arm and drug her towards Thanatos.

"She could stay here if she likes." Malchior came in, suddenly at Raven's side. "The weather's nice this evening, we could go for a walk, or a flight."

"Tempting, but I didn't get all dressed up like this just to go flying around." she told him.

"Then perhaps we could come with you?" Rorek asked eagerly, somehow slipping in-between her and Malchior.

"Wish you could," Argent said. "But this concert is the last one the lead singer will be singing in. She's quitting the band afterwards so tickets have been sold out for months."

Raven could almost see that entire statement soar right over Rorek's head. "Pardon?" he asked, bemused.

"We can't go because there's not enough space." Malchior translated morosely.

"Oh…vopruzah." Rorek swore.

"Indeed."

"Next time I'll be sure to get four tickets." Argent chuckled. She tugged Raven along and Thanatos opened a portal for them with a nod. They said goodbye to the boys + Belladonna and went through.

(O)

Thor was chuckling. "You'd never know Raven was that much of a woman normally, would you?" And then he laughed at the look Malchior shot his way, holding up his hands in supplication. "Not that you have anything to worry about from me, my friends!"

Malchior seemed to accept this and rounded on Rorek instead. "Diirek." he snarled.

"Aam geh?" Rorek retorted defiantly.

"Geh!"

And, once more, their little spat culminated into a bout of fisticuffs.

"I wonder what language zey are speaking in." Belladonna mused as the two tumbled over the couch. "It sounds just a bit like German but I know it is not."

"No. Anything you recognize Thanatos?" Thor asked. Thanatos shook his head. Thor shrugged. "Oh well. Let's make some popcorn. 20 euros says they break the butterfly lamp."

"Do you really zink zey will or are you just hoping?" Belladonna asked shrewdly. Thor just grinned and gave another shrug.

(O)

It was loud, crowded, a bit stuffy, and the layout itself had a bipolar temperature; meaning that it was hot here, freezing over there, and very occasionally you'd find a comfortable spot that you'd be lucky to stay in for more than two minutes because everyone was moving and jostling each other to get inside the stadium. On the way inside, Raven was never surrounded by less than five different languages at any given time. She was usually able to understand at least two since English and German were the most common and she was fluent in both, but it was interesting to hear so many different dialects filling one space. It seemed to give the collated white noise a dynamic that you just didn't get in the States.

But after they'd gotten in and found their seats the start of the concert wasn't as bad as she had dreaded. Their VIP passes led them to a boxed area that they shared with about 20 other people. But they were good seats, comfortable and not crammed together like the rest of the stadium. They also had a door in the back leading to a glass-covered area which muffled the sound and provided the VIP guests with a bar, food stall, and space to socialize in while listening to the concert via the inside speakers rather than the outside roar.

The miasma of emotion was just as stifling, but she found she could handle it better than she might have done a few years previous. A little bit of alcohol helped and she got a snack as well.

She was glad that Argent had shoved her into the corset. She fit right in to this crowd and the only reason people looked at her was because it was a small crowd and you only had so many people to look at before you had to look at everyone. She definitely wasn't the only one in a corset. She wasn't even the only one with violet hair. In fact there were a group of girls wearing various black outfits with violet hair and blue stones somewhere about their person. They were also wearing white capes, some of which had hoods.

"I thought you said my hood would look out of place." Raven complained to Argent.

"Guess I was wrong." Argent said with a shrug.

And then she felt the girls' attention on her. She didn't have much time to wonder why before one of them jeered out, "Nice Raven costume, Love! Only you forgot your cloak. Couldn't get your mum to sew one up in time?"

Raven stared at her, but the girls moved on, tittering and glancing at her every now and then, giggling. She turned to Argent. "What costume?"

Now it was Argent's turn to giggle. Raven stared at her.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Sometimes people like to dress up a bit when they come to events like this. It's pretty normal." Argent explained.

"I still don't understand. Why does she think I'm wearing a costume?" Raven asked.

"Because you look like Raven." Argent stated.

"Really? Do I? Fancy that. I can't imagine _why_." Raven said, rolling her eyes. "Argent, you can start making sense any day now."

"Raven, take a good look at those girls. Don't they seem to be dressing in a rather familiar style? Admittedly you don't normally wear a corset but sometimes it's fun to mix things up a bit; add a personal flare and so on."

"They're dressing like _me_?-!"

Argent's response was another giggle. Raven sighed.

"I'm getting another drink." she decided, turning towards the bar. She got about five steps and was suddenly facing a glass of something pink and fruity.

"Don't mind them," said the owner of the arm holding the glass. "They're just jealous you look so good you don't need a white cloak."

He was tall, handsome, with dark brown eyes and long black hair that curled a little as it tumbled down his shoulders. He looked Spanish but his accent was Irish and he had a grin that was welcome and friendly in any country. It would have definitely opened doors for him in America. She took the drink he was offering to her and gave him a small smile. "Thanks." she said.

"Personally I don't think the actual Raven would care to dress up as flashy as them." he told her, waving a hand at the girls.

"Or show off quite as much skin." Raven muttered, taking a sip of the fruity drink. It was pretty good. It tasted a bit like licorice, but most of her drinks had had a licorice taste to them. Maybe that was the norm for mixed drinks in Germany. Or maybe the barman had a licorice fixation and simply couldn't help himself.

He cocked his head at her. "You're from the states, aren't ye'?"

She nodded. It was pretty obvious. All she really had to do was open her mouth and start talking. "I can't help but wonder why they're dressing as an American Titan, though. Europe has a T-Tower in Dublin, right? What about them?"

"Ah, well, we're certainly proud of our Titans, don't get me wrong. But the ones in Jump City America are the founders. Everyone knows them, right?"

_If you say so._ She thought, quite sure that there were plenty of people in the world who could care less about superheroes and who they were. She was also sure that there were people out there who thought the Titans were just a bunch of Justice League wannabes and didn't pay too much attention despite the fact that there were far more Teen Titans than Justice League members these days. But outwardly she just shrugged. "I suppose. I never really thought about it much."

"Perfectly understandable." he said, his eyes glittering. "I imagine defending the world from the forces of evil takes up enough brain power as it is. Such trivial matters would be a waste to think about." She blinked at him. He chuckled and tapped himself on the forehead. "I've got some skill when it comes to stones and what you have on your forehead is the real thing – I can tell. I suppose you could call it a power, but I don't think someone who can tell the difference between glass and diamond would make much of a superhero. So either you're extremely dedicated to your look – in which case you would have worn a cloak too – or you _are_ Raven."

"Well, put it like that and it's not much of a guess." she mused.

He smiled. He had a really pleasant smile. "So is this going to become a new look?" he asked, gesturing to her current outfit.

"Don't count on it. Being able to breathe during a fight is kind of essential." she told him. "Fashion might be necessary to the whole superhero motif, but when it's your neck about to be blasted out of the air then function still beats fashion and is therefore the first choice."

"I'm sure it's something you could get use to with a bit of practice."

She snorted. "Try it sometime."

"I have, in fact."

"You…what?"

He chuckled. "With a skirt, too. Not a kilt, a skirt. It had lace on. Want to see a picture?"

"Yes," she decided, "I do."

He was in the process of pulling out his phone when Argent suddenly grabbed her arm. "Hey, something's up." she murmured in her ear. Argent gave the black-haired youth a smile. "Sorry, can I borrow her for a bit? Thanks!" And she pulled Raven out towards the box seats.

The roar came back as soon as they stepped out of the glass sitting room. The lead singer was good, very good. She had an incredible range and a strong, beautiful voice that was able to project just enough above the instruments that you could actually make out more than just 'waaaaah waaah wah waaaaah'. At first Raven thought that Argent wanted her to see the pyrotechnics. But then the girl shoved a pair of binoculars into her hands (her drink had disappeared somewhere) and pointed. "Left hand corner of the stage. Looks dark but there's a shape. Tell me I'm not seeing things!" she shouted in Raven's ear.

Raven focused the binoculars. They were pretty good ones, too. Not that they needed to be. The box wasn't that far from the stage. It was just sort of to the side and in a little alcove. She found the corner Argent was talking about and saw the silhouette of someone. And the next flash of pyrotechnics brought that person's back into sharp relief. She gasped.

"What are we looking for?" an Irish accent shouted in her ear.

Raven handed the binoculars back to Argent, who pocketed them. She turned to her new friend. "Sorry!" she shouted. "But we've got to go!"

"Why? Concert's not over yet." he shouted back, taking her by the wrist.

"Titan business." she answered, pulling her hand away. Or trying to. His grip wasn't tight, but it was like stone and he wasn't letting go. Suddenly his grin wasn't quite so innocent or friendly anymore.

"It's going to be really hard to do any of that sort of thing with no magic, love."

Raven stared at him. _I only had two sips of that drink._ she told herself. But she'd had a few drinks before that, hadn't she? So had Argent. And she could feel it now that she was paying attention.

Wormwood was a plant of a very specialized kind of value to magic-users. Places that catered to any kind of magic-using customer _always_ stocked wormwood because that was often the first thing possible reoccurring customers would be looking for in the herbs section. Most anyone who did any light studying on the subject knew about magic-users and their wormwood.

It just wasn't what most people seemed to think it was.

Wormwood did _not_, in fact, enhance one's magical powers. It did exactly the opposite. However, the value of this wasn't just for those who had been born with a bit too much power and needed to learn control before they set the cat on fire. The effect was like taking a sheet of aluminum foil, poking a hole in it, and then putting that foil over your only source of light. Suddenly everything was dark, but you had this tiny hole that brought anything you focused it on into sharp relief. It was incredibly useful for learning difficult spells that required a lot more focus and concentration than they did actual power. Sometimes it was the difference between having a big bulky crayon and a sharpened colored pencil. The crayon could get more colored at once but that wasn't going to do you much good if you had small spaces and coloring outside the lines meant your eyebrows would grow five inches long.

Turn wormwood into absinthe, however, and suddenly you had _no_ magical power. Wormwood was a bottle cap with a small hole in the middle. Absinthe was a cork.

It also happened to be a very strong alcoholic substance. _Very_ strong. But if something was supposed to have alcohol in it and you gave it to someone who didn't normally drink such things, how would they know the difference?

She'd been drugged.

They'd _both_ been drugged.

(8)

A/N: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-!

Now that is one heck of a cliffhanger to leave you at for the week, isn't it? :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Bathroom break. And if we aren't allowed to use the bathroom then it will be your nose that breaks.

With any luck there will be no more 10-hour days or 6-day weeks for a while…and I am SO taking a week's vacation sometime in the near future. Will very likely be updating Squares this Saturday. Sorry for the hiatus, but it was either Squares or Circles. See ya Friday! 8D


	24. The Luxury of Mercy

A/N: It turned out to be very difficult to find something funny in this chapter for the previous chapter's "Coming up in the next chapter:" Not a whole lot of laughs here…and Malchior scared me a little. Have you ever had your characters sort of…take over?

Yeah…

(8)

_I left the caves in great disquiet. It felt to me as though an entire race of sentient creatures had been pushed so low that they simply gave up and were now waiting to die. When I found myself once more in the company of Madam Crow she told me that the goblins had been robbed of everything their God had given them and were now waiting for Him to reclaim them._

_And now I could not help but wonder why it was a loving God would allow such things to happen. Was this the same God worshiped by the humans and dragons of Nahl? I asked this of Madam Crow and she laughed. I can remember her next words with great clarity._

"_And you think the goblins to be so blameless? Sometimes there is only too much truth in the kind of bedtime stories told to stop the children's wandering feet."_

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs_

(O)

**Chapter 24 – The Luxury of Mercy**

In Azarath there were two factions of trained defense – though the monks were the ones history remembered most. There were the monks and there were the sorcerers. Raven had studied under both. Such a thing was unusual, but she wasn't the only one to cross-train like that. It was simply that, in her case, it had been necessary. It had been necessary for her to train with the monks who focused their emotional energies into psychic power so she could learn to control those emotions. And it had also been necessary for her to train with the sorcerers because magic was the shape her innate power wished to take once it had been focused – and even when it _wasn't_ focused. Blasts of spellfire had been lashing out from her ajna chakra before she was old enough to even _say_ 'spellfire'. Both disciplines had been absolutely necessary.

And so that was why when Raven's panic rose to a certain level it did not take over and rob her of her thought or her senses. Instead a lifetime of training took over and those emotions were being focused and redirected into psychic power, leaving her mind cool and clear and sharper than it ever was in a rested situation.

Psychic power and magical power were not the same thing, but they were not wholly separate either. It was difficult to determine what the difference was; where one began and the other ended. Some believed psychic power was the raw form of magical power. It was to magic what molten steel was to a sword. But anyone who had trained in both disciplines could tell you this wasn't true. If it was, then absinthe would be blocking her psychic power as well.

She was not as well-trained in _that_ part of the monk discipline as she was in her magic. Her innate power took the shape of magic, after all. But she had it. And in some strange, twisting, connected way, power was power. You could say she was turning her magical power into psychic power, but that wasn't quite right. It wasn't the same. And there wasn't much. She'd been trained enough of the monk's discipline to control her emotions and hone a few of her natural abilities like flight and her spellfire, but she'd never had extensive training in her psychic power.

That didn't seem to matter, though. Because she didn't need much.

Now that her mind was focused and clear, she could see that it had been too little for too much. Yes, the absinthe was like a cork, but there was a lot to cork. All she had to do was focus enough psychic power on burning away enough alcohol. Then she would dip down deep so that the sheer amount of her power could blast forth and, effectively, pop the cork.

The anger was helping. No, it wasn't anger, it was _rage_. Hot and searing, it laced through her body like a flame. She let it. Let it out, let it find this drug and _burn it_.

Outwardly she bought herself time by allowing her expression to slacken into one of shocked disbelief. An expression that her new 'friend' seemed to enjoy.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid I lied about the part where stone-sensing is my only power." he shouted to her above a din that she could no longer hear over the rage. "I don't want to hurt you, though. I really don't. Why don't we go somewhere quiet to talk?"

The power was filling her veins, became a thrashing nebula of color in her head. She was now juggling thousands of knives and this fool didn't even realize how much danger he was in. But no, she didn't have time for that. And besides, Argent was in danger. She had to get Argent to safety.

Raven's expression set. "You're with the Brotherhood of Evil?" she hissed, her jaw clenched. He heard her anyway.

"Not at all." he answered pleasantly. "Madam Rouge – and I have no doubt it was her you just spotted – is with _us_." he told her.

She didn't have time to ask who 'us' were. She had the sick feeling she didn't really need to.

She yanked her hand out of his, grabbed Argent, and ran for the door of the glass room. There was a back door leading to the entry halls that they'd come in through.

"What's going on?-!" Argent yelled as Raven dodged around the Raven costumers who yelled rude things after her as she aimed for the back door. It sounded like one of them was going to follow and give them a piece of her mind, but Raven had no time for her.

The bartender intercepted them. "What is the rushing, ladies?" he asked with a nervous smile and a thick accent.

"Bathroom break." she answered. "And if we aren't allowed to use the bathroom then it will be your nose that breaks. Do I make myself clear?" she asked, raising a hand covered in her black-white spellfire. The bartender's face lost all of its blood and he scrambled out of the way just in time for the blast she let loose to break open the door. She ran out and chose a direction at random, still dragging Argent.

"I can't use my spellfire!" Argent shouted suddenly. "What's—"

"Our drinks were spiked with absinthe!" Raven hissed just as two very large men in black suits appeared to block their way.

"Now, frauleins," one of them began, "Let us not be hasty,"

The hallway lost all color save for Raven's glowing red eyes. The two men were lifted into the air and then their heads were banged together before they could so much as gasp. Satisfied that they were out cold, Raven let the color return.

"How come you still have power?" Argent asked as they ran past.

"There are a few things about me that I'm not entirely up-front about." Raven answered. "For instance: I'm only half human, I was born and raised in another dimension, and several months ago I experienced an enormous power-boost that I decided _not_ to announce to the general public. I usually keep that power dormant and locked away but I'm afraid this situation is too serious _not_ to use it." They found a set of bathrooms and Raven pulled Argent inside. They weren't empty, so Raven kept her voice quiet. "Can you call Thanatos?" she whispered.

"No, we have no signal here, remember?" Argent answered, producing her communicator for proof.

"I guess I wasn't listening when you told me. Oblaanpook." she swore, pulling out her own communicator to check. Sure enough she had no signal. "They're jamming our signals somehow, they must be!"

"What do we do?" Argent whispered.

"Excusez-moi." a timid voice piped up. A girl, no, a more-or-less young lady, probably in her early 30s, had come up to them and was shyly proffering her cell phone. "I have connection. You need?"

She did. Raven could hardly dare to believe it but somehow this normal cell phone had just enough of a signal for a call. Was the jamming focused solely on Titan communicators then? It had to be. The communicators could sometimes catch a signal from another dimension – they were that good. It had to be some sort of divine province that produced this normal cell phone for them so swiftly. Thank you Maartuz or Pahmonah or Iiam Bormah or whoever was the real god that you were supposed to thank for this stuff! And thank you Cyborg for giving the communicators the ability to call normal cell phones and vise-versa.

"Can you get Thanatos to make a portal right here?" Raven asked, handing the phone to Argent.

"Sure thing!" Argent answered, punching in a swift series of numbers. Lucky she had them memorized. Maybe it would be a good idea for Raven to memorize all her own teammate's numbers.

She could hear a commotion outside. Time was up. "You get out of here. I'm going to lure them away. I'm pretty sure it's me they want anyway." Raven told her.

"But—"

Raven slipped out of the bathroom. She would have to let them see her in order to get them away from Argent, so it was a mixed blessing when another pair of large men in black suits soon spotted her and pointed, shouting something she couldn't catch. She ran the other way, glancing back to make sure they were following her. She didn't know where she was going anymore, only that she needed to get outside.

There were other people in the halls, some of them didn't seem too pleased about being jostled and several of them yelled something out to her in languages she didn't know.

She found another bathroom, a smaller set, but this one had a window on the other side that let the starlight through – meaning that open air and sky was just on the other side. So she fazed through the wall, turned into a flock of ravens – which would be a lot harder to see above all the strobe lights – and soared high up into the sky. She spread herself out as far as she dared so that if anyone _did_ see her then she'd just look like some birds that got disturbed from somewhere (though how a flock of birds could have possibly been _undisturbed anywhere_ in the area right now was hard to fathom).

She aimed for the back stage area, flying over the glittering stadium. When she was safely out of sight of the crowd she pulled herself back together and fazed cautiously through the roof.

There was a lot of activity going on back stage, and most of it was focused on the show. However there was certain someone over to the right (what had been the left when viewed from the other side) whose existence _couldn't_ be doing any good for anyone's nerves.

Madam Rouge was talking to someone on her headset. She had just enough time for Raven to hear her say, "Vell, vere is she now?" before Raven tackled her to the ground. She enveloped the woman in her power, sucking away all her color.

"Here I am." Raven snarled in her ear, yanking her arms behind her back so she could bind the wrists in spellfire chains.

"H-hyu!" Madam Rouge gasped. "How—vat did hyu do to my power?-!" she shrieked. "Hyu are suppose to be powerless!"

"Raven! Look out!" someone shouted.

Raven looked up in time to see a blast of spellfire headed directly for her. It was black and red and it _looked_ malevolent, the colors curling around one another like something organic and tub-like. She leapt into the air as a flock in order to avoid it, but that meant she released Madam Rouge and, unfortunately, the villainess managed to dodge the blast as well.

"Vatch vat hyu are doing!" Rouge shouted.

Raven reformed herself and searched around wildly for her attacker, but she was too late. The moment of disorientation she suffered every time she brought herself back out of that form was two seconds too much. She was hit from behind and she slammed down hard on the wooden floor. Her vision clouded. She fought it as hard as she could, pulling her rage up to burn at whatever spell had caught her but it wasn't working. Her rage was slipping. Everything was slipping. She lost sense of her limbs, her body, the light…everything…

(O)

"**Become the pinch in the hourglass. Know your tools. Edge. Circle. Light."**

"**I don't trust you."**

"**An edge breaks the circle."**

(O)

When she opened her eyes she saw…a line of salt? A curving line. Of salt. She pushed herself up on her hands and tried to focus. "A circle?" she murmured, trying to clear her mind of the fuzz. She felt sick and…red. How could you _feel_ a color? But the sick feeling somehow brought to mind the image of wriggling intestines. Like that spellfire she'd seen not long ago. It made her want to throw up.

Madam Rouge chuckled somewhere above her. "Yes, Raven. Van zat hyu are not getting out of. Just like hyur friends." she said, pointing.

There were two people standing in the middle of another circle only two yards (hang on, she was in Europe, so it would be two meters, give or take) from her. At first she didn't recognize either of them because of the mugginess and the dim lighting in this corner. Then there was a flash of pyrotechnics from the stage and she realized she _did_ know one of them. He had to be the one who'd tried to warn her.

"Batman?-!" she exclaimed in disbelief, pulling herself to her feet. Seeing him here, of all places, was so bizarre. Was she hallucinating? No, she wasn't. But who was that odd woman standing next to him? Raven didn't recognize her at all. And that was definitely a figure you wouldn't forget in a hurry. She stumbled a little as she tried to sit up and found herself pushing up against an invisible wall. It was a fairly soft wall as walls went. It also didn't actually exist…sort of. Some part of her knew what she was talking about. She leaned up against it for support anyway and waited for the sick feeling to pass. It was quite comfortable, as walls went.

The woman was wearing a long maroon dress, a gold breastplate, a golden mask that covered her entire face and kept even her eyes in dark shadow, and had a rather needlessly elaborate hair arraignment which, while it did mean her extremely long hair was up and out of the way, _had_ to be heavy and uncomfortable. Raven decided she was _never_ going to let her hair grow so long that there was enough of it for _that_.

Madam Rouge, satisfied that Raven wasn't going anywhere, turned her attention to something else on the back of the stage.

"Raven, can you get us out of here?" Batman asked.

"I…" she stared down at the circle. _An edge breaks the circle._ She shook her head. No! She couldn't listen! She could not trust them! "No, I don't think I can."

"No, she cannot." said the woman. She had to be the more experienced magic-user that Batman had mentioned to Nightwing. She had a thick British accent that seemed a bit…odd to Raven. Her voice also sounded a lot younger than her rather voluptuous body type suggested. "This is old magic. Not even I know how it works or how to fight it."

Raven stared down at the salt surrounding her. It was a pale lavender, but the color was only there to make it look fancy. All you really needed was sodium carbonate and you could get that at the grocery store.

No…all you needed was something to make a mark. And it could be anything. You could mark it with something that was there, or with an absence. Chalk would have worked, or an X-Acto knife. Heck, you could even used chilli pepper.

How did she know that? Surely it needed something…special. Right? She _always_ had to use some fancy mixture or powder or marking tool. Crystal sand was most popular, but in some spells you had to be a bit more specific. You had to mix certain materials to a certain way so that the magic would flow into them and come back out the shape you wanted. Right?

So how come this _salt_ was able to hold her like this with no perceivable force behind it?

Raven tested a boot against the inner edge of the circle. Sure enough it went right up until the salt began and then it encountered a soft barrier that, nevertheless, did not budge no matter how hard she pushed.

A soft barrier…kind of like a really hard gel that would give a little but wasn't liquid enough to let you through. But a knife could go right through gel like that. _An edge breaks the circle._

No. This was deep magic, magic that Malchior did not want her even knowing too much about. Magic that he wouldn't use outside of a dreamscape.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"Only just long enough for them to draw the circle around you." the sorceress answered. "Ten minutes at most."

"They're coming back." Batman said grimly.

Raven looked up. Three people were approaching them. One of them was Madam Rouge, another was the Irish Spaniard who'd had her spiked with absinthe, and the last was a new face. She was youthful and ordinary-looking…except she was wearing an outfit of faded burgundy and bronze lining that too closely resembled the combat ensemble of the late Brother Blood. She had mousy brown hair up in a short ponytail, thin eyebrows, green eyes, and a smile that was just as welcoming and charismatic as the late Brother Blood's had been (at least, right up to the point where he lost his temper and out came the psycho within). But she didn't actually look anything like Brother Blood so Raven highly doubted there was a (haha) blood relation.

There was a presence, though. A presence that was sickly, stifling, rotting, and yet horribly, dangerously, alluring. So this was blood magic with all the breaks off. This was what it was when you went beyond whatever boundaries that Brother Blood had given himself. Raven felt sick with terror and panic but those emotions almost automatically began to focus themselves into a useable force, leaving her body clear and her mind focused. Her heightened senses began to draw in every detail they could in an effort to find some means of survival and escape.

"Hello Raven!" the girl greeted in a cheery little voice that was far worse than any evil cackle Raven had ever heard. "Let me introduce myself: I'm Sister Fear. I think you already know Madam Rouge, and Fulgorite you've met briefly. I'm really very sorry about all this." she said, waving a hand, possibly to indicate the general way they'd simply taken over the stadium and trapped her in a circle. Raven thought she could pick out which stage hands were and were not members of the cult. The ones that _weren't_ cult members were scared out of their wits, but fortunately not so scared that they couldn't keep the show going regardless. "I hope we can be friends in the future, once we've sat down and had a little…talk? For now, though, I'm sorry to say that you're going to have to stay there. Don't try to get out, please. You'll only waste your power, and we don't want that. This is old magic, you see. It won't matter how powerful you are. All that power is staying inside the circle."

"What are you here for? What do you want?" Raven demanded.

"You. Well, not just you, to be perfectly honest. We were ever so tickled when we found out you'd be coming here with Miss Argent – who we will find soon enough, I'm sure. Don't worry! I promise I'll explain everything when we get back home." she said pleasantly. "For now, though, it seems the concert is over. I'm sorry I have to leave you, but there's that other business to attend to. Madam Rouge and Fulgorite will keep you company, though."

Raven felt the roaring in her mind. It was all she could do to stop the relief and excitement from making an appearance on her expression. The roar had been close. Close and very, _very_ angry.

"Child, listen to me!" the woman implored, pressing up against the barrier of her own circle. "You do not understand what you are doing. The magic you are using will destroy you. It gives you great power, yes, but you cannot fool with such deep magics. When you step beyond a certain level of the mundane powers it is not simply other denizens of the mortal coil you will find yourself facing."

Sister Fear just shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the warning; I really do." she began politely, "But I've heard all the stories and I'm afraid I know them for what they are: superstitions. They're fairy tales; little stories told to children to frighten them into staying in their beds at night. That sort of thing only gets you if you believe it will. I don't. But we can talk more about it later if you like. I'm always willing to learn. Especially from someone with your reputation. Goodbye for now, though." And she left them.

Batman regarded Rouge and Fulgorite stoically. "And what do you intend to do with me?" he asked.

"Personally I vould have hyu frozen into a leetle icicle so hyu vould be no more trouble. But obviously I am not in command here." Madam Rouge answered.

"That didn't work on the Teen Titans, what makes you think it'd work on the Justice League?" Raven asked.

"Hyu listen to me, hyu leetle snip. Hyu vere lucky. I notice _I_ am no longer an icicle eizer. And I vas not ze only van to escape." Madam Rouge sneered.

"Are you all working for the Church of Blood now? And here I thought you couldn't sink any lower." Raven growled back.

"That really hurts coming from you, Raven. We've been keeping our toes out of your city, haven't we? Does that count for noth'n?" Fulgorite asked in a hurt voice.

Raven glared at him. "I don't know who or what you think I am and I don't know what you want from me, but you're not getting it." she stated.

That power was still strong in her veins. If she wasn't careful with it her eyes would start to glow red and she didn't quite want that at the moment. She wanted to reserve her power. The second roar had been closer. She felt something seeking. Could she get away with letting out her own roar?

"Big vords for a leetle girl trapped vith salt." Madam Rouge sneered.

Thank you, Madam Rouge, that was exactly the excuse she needed to let out a bit of temper. "Bovoth hinmaar!" Raven snarled out. "Naak oblaanpook, grohiikrek!"

It worked. The next roar that came felt triumphant.

Madam Rouge was thoroughly unnerved. She actually jumped back, her eyes wide and, for a moment, frightened. "Vat vas zat?-!" she demanded angrily. Fulgorite, however, was laughing. "Are hyu having a stroke?" Raven just crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

Fulgorite, still chuckling, came over to Raven's circle and stood in front of it, smiling charmingly at her. "Don't bother yourself about Rouge. I think she just needs some time to get use to it." he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I really don't care either." she ground out.

"Don't be like that, love. _I_ don't mind it. In fact, I think it makes you all the more interesting." he told her. "Normal girls are just boring."

"Still don't know what you're talking about." She very well _did_, but she wasn't about to admit that in front of Batman and whoever his lady friend was.

Daanik, daanik, _daanik_! They _knew_! How did they know?-! Well, did that matter much in the circumstances? They knew and that was the issue here! She could think about the how later.

"You are quite beautiful, you know that, right? I didn't expect that, to be honest. You're always wearing a hood in the pictures. What sort of—"

"**Fus…Ro DA**!"

The blast came out of nowhere. It was neither cold nor hot, however. It was simply a wide-spread wave of force that pitched both of the villains forward and completely off balance while, at the same time, disrupting the salt. It broke both circles, which seemed to have taken the full force of the pressure since none of the captives were stumbling. This meant that Raven suddenly found her arms full of Fulgorite. Just as suddenly as he was there, however, he was yanked back by his hair and thrown, bodily, at one of the rougher looking stage hands, many of whom were on the ground or had crashed into things.

"I do apologize," Malchior began in a dangerously cheerful voice. "I'm pretty sure we did that wrong. I'm a bit new to this whole hero thing so were we supposed to attack before or after one of us shouted something cliché like, 'you're going down evil-doer'?" he asked them.

"I suppose hyu zink hyu are funny. " Madam Rouge sneered.

"Actually, in a very specialized sort of way, I feel I am downright hilarious." Malchior answered, stepping towards her.

Fulgorite rushed forward but before Raven or anyone else could stop him he was blasted off course by white spellfire. Rorek appeared, riding on his disc. He landed on solid ground and rushed to Raven. "Are you alright?" he asked, sounding breathless with anxiety.

"I'm fine." Raven answered as Malchior was sending shot after shot of his own translucent spellfire at Madam Rouge. His, however, was black in color. Why did this not surprise her? He also had a hold of Madam Rouge's wrist. This was making it rather hard for her to dodge his spellfire and she was getting angry trying to wrest it from his iron grip.

"I dunno who you are, Pal, but you've both just made one hell of a mistake." Fulgorite said. A batarang was thrown at his back but it just bounced right of with a loud 'tink' noise. He didn't seem to notice. Instead he leapt at Malchior only to freeze in mid-air. He wasn't wearing much in the way of color, but his skin was peach enough in tone that it was obvious he'd lost what little he had.

"This is the part where we say, 'no, you made the mistake.' Right?" Malchior asked. He now had both of Madam Rouge's wrists in one fist and seemed to be enjoying her angry shrieks and struggles. She was kicking him, but her hits didn't seem to effect him at all.

There were others, though. And they were advancing now.

The sorceress raised a hand to them. "Anyone who does not wish to die, I suggest you leave now." she said, green spellfire surrounding her and charging up in her hand. The cultists hesitated. Not all of them had powers, apparently. Those few who weren't part of the cult took this opportunity to run.

"Stop playing games!" Madam Rouge commanded angrily. Fulgorite was fighting as well, but he couldn't seem to do much suspended in the air as he was.

"As you wish, _Madam_."

Raven felt the magic but she wasn't sure what happened. As far as she could tell, Malchior pulled out a dagger and stabbed Rouge in the chest. Then he let her go.

"What are you fools standing around for?-! Someone warn Sister Fear!" Fulgorite shouted.

The world lost color. All those who had yet to run weren't going anywhere now since it was quite hard to walk when the ground is two inches too far for you to use. Raven couldn't help but wonder whether someone was already running to fetch Sister Fear. It was possible that those who'd already fled weren't _all_ non-cultist hostages.

"Nice try, but hyu'll have to do better than that to hurt me." Madam Rouge said to Malchior.

"I know." he said nonchalantly. Suddenly Madam Rouge's smirk disappeared. She was…struggling. But struggling against her own skin, it seemed. "I just wanted to make sure you caught the full force of that spell." he told her. He then turned around to Fulgorite. He even levitated a bit so he was at the same level. Raven wondered at that. How come Rorek needed his spellfire to fly but Malchior could do it innately like her? She'd have to ask him later.

Fulgorite, who was only hovering and not paralyzed, swung a punch at him but Malchior caught the fist with little apparent effort.

"My, my," the dragon said. "You're quite strong. As strong as stone, perhaps?" Malchior squeezed. Fulgorite screamed. Raven winced when she heard the cracking sound and…but it wasn't a normal cracking sound. It _sounded_ like the cracking of ceramics. Then Raven saw, with horrified fascination, that the hand itself cracked. It was as though it was made of glass rather than skin. She was so surprised by this that she dropped the cultist. Not that it mattered. He stayed where he dropped and curled into a fetal position, clutching his hand and whimpering in pain.

"He's not the only strong one, it seems." Batman observed.

"Hyur magic tricks cannot keep me for long!" Rouge hissed.

"Perhaps we should bind you with a circle, then." The sorceress suggested with some anger in her voice.

"No." Rorek said in a cold and final tone of voice. Not even Raven would argue with him. The sorceress even took a step back.

"Now," Malchior began in that cheerful way that was really starting to worry Raven, "Which of you was it that drew the circles? Come on, don't be shy."

"It was neither of them. It was the one called Sister Fear." Batman supplied.

"We're dealing with the Church of Blood, here." Raven told Malchior and Rorek. "What should we do about the other cultists?" she asked Batman, waving her hand at the stage hands who were all stuck in place with her grayscale magic.

"If you would release your hold upon the area, I can take care of that." the sorceress said.

Batman gave the sorceress a look of some suspicion, but then nodded to Raven. The world regained its color. Someone tried to run but the sorceress raised her hands and, in a flash of glittering green spellfire, they all vanished. All save for Madam Rouge and Fulgorite.

"The Church of Blood? I thought we were facing the return of the Brotherhood of Evil." Rorek said.

"Madam Rouge use to be with the Brotherhood, now she's with the cult. I didn't exactly have time to tell Argent what was going on." Raven explained.

"Well, isn't that convenient?" Malchior asked. His voice was bright and friendly, but there was an edge there that was…scary. Raven stared at him as he bent down and picked up Fulgorite by his collar. "So, which of you would like to tell us what's going on here, hmmm?" he asked pleasantly.

"Ve're not telling hyu anyting." Madam Rouge sneered.

"Oh good, I was hoping this wouldn't be too easy." he said casually.

"No, don't!" Raven shouted, but it was too late. Malchior's fist slammed into Fulgorite's stomach with such force that the cracks snaked up and laced across his face. The man howled with pain, choking out blood, and Malchior threw him aside were he lay very still, twitching only slightly. Then Malchior turned to Madam Rouge. She had gone quite pale. Raven got to him first, putting herself between him and Rouge. She hated the woman, but surely she didn't deserve _this_! "Stop! We don't do things that way!" she exclaimed.

"She's right. Back off. I'll take it from here." Batman said, drawing forward.

Malchior, however, rounded on him. "You have no idea what you're dealing with." he said in such a calm, soft voice that Batman stopped. "_She_ does not know what she has associated herself with. But I do. And my hands are already stained with the necessary evils that we faced the first time this happened. In fact, I've got quite a few _un_necessary evils to my name so what's a few more? And they're not even the worst of the lengths that we had to go to in order to curb the threat of Blood Magic. You leave this to _me_." he snarled. Then he turned to Raven, though his expression softened as he put his hands on her shoulders. "Raven, we do not have the luxury of mercy or pity in this matter. They will speak or they will die, and, I will not lie, I will regret killing neither of them. You do not have to watch." He was gentle, but firm as he steered her out of the way and more or less handed her over to Rorek, who took her arm and folded it into one of his as though he were a gentleman escorting her to some formal function.

"He's right, Raven." he said. "Blood Magic cannot be treated like some empowered man using his abilities to steal money. This matter is very serious, and the fact that someone is using circles like this makes it worse." he told her, pulling her further away.

"Hyu can't kill me. Und hyu vouldn't eizer, leetle boy." Rouge sneered, but she was worried underneath that bravado. And she had every right to be.

"_Vouldn't_ I?" Malchior sneered mockingly. He grabbed Madam Rouge around the neck and lifted her immobile form into the air. "Let me tell you something about myself, _Madam_." he began in a very dangerous voice. "I am a bastard. In every sense of the word. I am selfish, arrogant, and I have a very nasty temper. I am _not_ a nice person. But I am, at the very least, trying to be a _good_ person. And the thing about being _good_ that a lot of people get wrong is the part about being nice. Contrary to popular belief, you don't necessarily have to be _nice_ to be good. In fact, I've come to understand that people who are not bothered about being _nice_ are able to do the most _good_. That being said, it occurs to me that burning you to a cinder would do quite a lot of good because you are quite a lot of bad. I'm quite a lot of bad myself, I'll admit. But the difference between you and me is that I _regret_ the things I did and I _want_ to be good. You do not. That puts you in a very dangerous position because it means that killing you right here and now would not be murder. Not to the scriptures of _my_ kind anyway. And I want to kill you. I would _enjoy_ it. You want to know why? It's because you and stone man over here were holding Raven captive. I am quite fond of Raven, you see. In fact, you could say I'm a bit _attached_. I don't have a lot of friends, and because I am a selfish person I don't enjoy the thought of anyone I like to be hurt. Seeing them hurt would make me rather irate. Seeing her in a circle was worse than just seeing her _hurt_.

"Someone put her in a circle." Malchior continued with a snarl. "You were keeping her trapped in a circle. Using deep magics that should no longer even exist. Do you know what that means? No, of course you don't. But let me tell you something: I would sooner kill you than put you in a circle like that, I really would. It _attracts_ things. And someone. Trapped Raven. With. A. _Circle_! For this, _someone_ is going to die. Is it going to be the two of you? I can make it painful, you know. Very painful. I may only have a moderate sense of your power but I can tell you right here and now that you would not survive being turned into a pile of salt. I could do it too. Inch by inch. Starting with the tips of your fingers and toes and very slowly work my way in. I've never experienced the sensation myself, but based on the screams I've heard in the past it is _quite_ painful. I wonder how much of you it will take for you to finally die; how long the agony will last.

"As for your friend here, I'm thinking I'll just start pealing off all the shattered pieces of skin and messing about with whatever I find underneath. I can get very creative. So I suggest you start talking and start talking swiftly because, on top of everything else, I'm not very patient and I really, _really_ want to get to the part where I kill someone. Do we have an understanding?"

"Y-yes!" Madam Rouge gasped.

Malchior nodded, took the knife out of her chest, and let her drop. Slowly, shakily, Madam Rouge stood up.

"Vat do hyu vant to know?" she asked, her face still very pale. She was trembling. Well, Raven had to admit that she would be too. Malchior was _terrifying_ right now. She didn't like it, but…Rorek and Malchior had seen something like the Church of Blood before. Perhaps they had even seen the very beginning of the cult's formation, before they had an official name for themselves. She looked up at Rorek and saw his eyes. They were cold, hard, and unforgiving. What had they seen? What would make even Rorek accept the terrible things Malchior was proposing to do? It had to be terrible, more terrible than she'd ever been told. What had it been like for the monks of Azarath? What had they seen? Something similar to what Rorek and Malchior had?

Besides…the circles _had_ attracted something. And it was watching them.

"Why is the Church of Blood really here? What's the business that Sister Fear mentioned?" Batman asked.

"De lead singer of de band, Lady Eisen herself, is quitting to become a Teen Titan." Madam Rouge answered. "De Church of Blood is here to see she does not. Dey are holding a friend of hers hostage and are going to force her to sign anoter contract so she stays vith de band. I do not know vhy, only dat dere is someting about her power dat dey do not like. I do not tink dey can do anyting to her vith magic." she told them.

"A contract signed under duress wouldn't be binding, though." Raven said.

"It would if signed in blood." the unnamed sorceress stated. Ugh, well, there was that.

"How much of the stadium's staff are cultists?" Raven asked.

"Not many. Most of dem are simply being paid. Fists for hire. De Church of Blood has a lot of money." Rouge answered.

"Who's the new Brother Blood and what is he after?" Raven asked.

"Dere is no Broter Blood. Not right now, anyvay. Apparently de van who is suppose to be de new Broter Blood is being a bit naughty und rebellious. No van knows vere he is. De van giving de orders at de top right now is Moter Mayhem. Und she makes Sister Fear look like Leetle Red Riding Hood."

"Most of the Mother Mayhems have been very…potent." the masked sorceress forwarded.

"What is the cult after in general? What do they want?" Raven asked. "What does Mother Mayhem want?"

"Ve don't know. Dere is a hierarchy und ve are not high enough on it. I vould ask Sister Fear if I ver hyu." Madam Rouge answered. Fulgorite was managing to pull himself to his feet, but slowly. He crackled as he did it. It sounded like bits of porcelain crouching together and it made Raven wince slightly. Something dropped out of his shirt and he clutched at his stomach where Malchior had punched him. Blood was still oozing from his mouth.

"Then I think we should, don't you?" Malchior asked the rest of them. He then strode over to Fulgorite, picked him up, and tossed him at Madam Rouge. She caught him but her body warped a little to do it. "I'd like you to understand something before you leave," he began. "The only reason you're still alive is because I'm pretty sure Raven will be angry with me if I killed you anyway, regardless of your information. Run, both of you. Don't make any more contact with this cult. Run far away. Because the next time I see you, I'll burn you alive. Both of you." he told them, summoning a flame – a real one, not one made of spellfire – into the palm of his hand.

That was extremely hard to do. Real fire with magic never burned very hot and it used too much power for too little actual flame. Matches were easier and usually sufficed for anything you could possibly need _real_ fire for. This, however, was a true fire. Real fire. _Hot_ fire. She could feel its heat from here. It was burning from his magic as though it were wood (which accounted for the black color) and he had it cupped in one hand. A hand that _wasn't_ blistering from the heat.

Too bad neither Madam Rouge nor Fulgorite were magic-users. If they had been then this display would have truly frightened the life out of them because that sort of thing should not be possible.

It did enough. Madam Rouge dropped Fulgorite and made to run but Malchior called her back.

"You take that with you, Madam!" he snapped, pointing to the glass man.

Madam Rouge didn't argue. She came back, picked up Fulgorite, and drug him towards one of the back doors.

"I can take us to Sister Fear now. Are we ready?" the sorceress asked.

"Just a moment." Raven answered. She dashed over to a corner whose shadow was made deeper by the sharp lights no one was around to turn off. She slipped inside and used the shadow as a cover while she changed her clothes by magic. It wasn't an easy task. She much preferred to do it the normal way since there was a moment in there where you were naked and exposed anyway. But it was quick and it got her out of the corset far more swiftly than she would have ever managed by herself. Strange, though. Argent had been right. She hadn't noticed it much this whole time. Maybe you _could_ get use to it. She took it off anyway, put on her normal costume, and pulled her cloak over her shoulders.

Once that was done she closed her eyes and held her hands up in front of her with the palms cupped as though she were holding a bowl in them. It was an invitation.

For a moment she thought she would be ignored. Then she felt the weight in her hands and let out the soft breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding. She placed the…thing in her one empty gem and emerged from the shadows. "There, much better." she said.

"Only your opinion, Raven." Malchior murmured.

Raven decided to ignore him, pulling up her hood. "Ready." she said.

(8)

A/N: Anyone who's figured out who the unnamed sorceress is are probably going nuts wondering why the crap she's helping Batman, huh? I'M FULL OF SURPRISES!-!-!

Anyone who's played enough Skyrim will note that there are actually two different 'Fus Ro Dah's out there. The first is the general, 'Fus ro DAH!" that you hear from the Dragonborn, but there's also the soft 'Fus' pause 'ro, DAH!' that you get from the draugrs. I like the draugr version better. ^_^

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Lucky for us the monsters decided to band together against the bigger monster, yes?

I _do_ intend to update Squares tomorrow. Hopefully it will be funny enough to make up for the seriousness of this weekend's chapters.


	25. Fear In Shadow

A/N: Fair warning: This chapter _might_ be a bit scary. I don't know. I think it depends on how much imagination you have and how easily frightened you are. Anyone with an _extremely_ active imagination...well, this is your heads-up.

(8)

_In a forest that was all a single tree growing other trunks from its own roots I found an old wingless dragon gnawing at the roots of the center tree – a growth so great it was a mountain in its own right. I know what the humans called him, but he had his own name and I called him by it. In return for the many barrels of mead I had brought with me he told me the story of the beings who once built a city high in the branches of the very tree he gnawed at. They called themselves gods and demanded things from the people they looked down upon while giving nothing in return. Then some sorcerer knights came one day and fought them in the name of the One God. According to the dragon these sorcerers trapped the gods and goddesses in scrolls and took them away but told no one what they had done. They neither boasted of their accomplishment nor did they demand the people to now follow their One God. In their minds they had a purpose and all thought and power was focused to this purpose alone, saying that there would be enough time for pride when they were dead and buried._

_Fascinated by the story, I decided to climb the enormous tree and investigate the city atop it. It took me many days and many nights and I became very fatigued. In the end all my work was worth the effort for I discovered a strange and wondrous place in the high branches of the tree where each leaf was of the size and strength to bear a small house. The city glittered in my mind and I was awed by the beauty of it. Yet as soon as my awe and wonder had faded I was struck by a sense of arrogant opulence that seemed to hover about every marble structure and statue despite the degenerate state of this city._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 25 – Fear In Shadow**

Lady Eisen was young, probably just under 20, and very pretty. She had fair skin, long platinum blond hair, silvery gray eyes, and a slender frame that hinted of lean muscles. She wore armor of a sleek design with a breastplate, hip guards, boots, gauntlets, and chainmail in-between. Oh there was cloth here and there for decorative purposes, but mostly it was all armor. She was even wearing a winged headdress so she could have been a valkyrie. This close Raven could see that the armor wasn't just a stage thing. It was _real_, and while it was too shiny to be iron it very likely had iron somewhere in the alloy and that was most likely the reason no Blood Magic could touch her. That had to be far too much iron for anything to get through.

She was currently in what appeared to be a large cellar reading a wad of paper with her face set in a grim expression. Around her Raven could see Sister Fear and about five other cultists dressed similarly, but in gray and without the bronze lining to their outfits. One woman had her hand on the shoulder of an elderly man who was sitting down at the opposite side of the room. His own face was very pale, and his wrists were shackled to the chair. There were a few thugs hanging back and huddled in a group, muttering to each other.

The sorceress waved a hand over the bathroom mirror they were using and the image vanished. "She has not signed the contract yet." she said.

"No one's told them we've escaped, either. They're too relaxed." Raven offered. She looked at Batman. "What's the plan?"

"The old man must be the friend Madam Rouge mentioned." Batman said. "We need to get him out of there first. Can we do it by magic?"

"Easily. There are no barriers in the room." the sorceress answered.

"It will not help." Rorek told them. "The man is only there as a visual example. They will have a dormant curse of some sort bound into his very blood. He will be dead the moment we barge in."

"Is there any way we can save him?" Batman asked.

"Yes. Kill Sister Fear before she can trigger the curse." Malchior answered.

"Unless, of course, someone happens to have a lodestone." Rorek added.

"I do, in fact." Batman answered, producing a polished gray rock that was about the size and shape of an egg.

"Someone's done their homework." Malchior said, looking mildly impressed. Raven decided not to tell him that she'd told Batman about the lodestone thing in one of her e-mails, which Rorek had told _her_ about.

"Not that it did me much good when we were attacked from behind." Batman said. "How, exactly, is this suppose to help, by the way?"

"Well, for a start, it will break any curses cast by Blood Magic upon contact. It is also the reason Sister Fear was unable to place a similar curse on you. I'd say that's very helpful." Malchior told him, taking the stone. "It's strong," he mused. "Good, looks like the old man might live after all. _If_ we can get this in his hand before Sister Fear catches on."

"Could I have been cursed?" the sorceress asked. "I am not carrying any lodestones." she stated.

"No," Malchior began. He held the little stone close to the woman's breastplate and let it go. It flew a few inches through the air and stuck there. "But that armor of yours is only gold _plated_."

"Of course it is. Gold is an impractical metal. It is only good for looking pretty and stopping the rust. What is your point?" she asked, pulling the little rock off her.

"Iron, M'Lady." Rorek answered. "Blood Magic does not work on iron. It is that power's one weakness." he stated.

"Iron? I have never heard of this. How do you know of it?" the sorceress asked.

"I think that's a discussion that can wait for another time, don't you?" Malchior asked with that edged pleasantness.

"Indeed."

(O)

The sorceress did not give anyone time to react to her sudden appearance. She was in, she had the lodestone up against the older man's bare skin, and then the both of them vanished. After that Raven emerged from the shadows, opened her cloak, and from the darkness within Batman, Rorek, and Malchior leapt forward.

"STOP! They used Blood Magic on Dr. Hindul! They'll kill him!" Lady Eisen cried out desperately, but they didn't have time to explain.

The thugs all lunged for Batman and one of them went after Rorek only to get blasted back. Batman didn't have any issues either. He was used to this and the thugs' combat experience didn't go much further than fists and muscles. Three of the five gray-clad cultists began throwing spellfire of various colors which Raven blocked with her black, white-lined spellfire. One of the others grew in size until he was an enormous man only just small enough not to hit his head on the high ceiling. He brought a fist down on Malchior, as if to squash him, but Malchior caught the fist and used it to throw the man at the three magic-users.

"You could save the good doctor if you stopped them." Sister Fear told Lady Eisen. "Just make sure you don't hurt the one in the white cloak too much."

Lady Eisen stared at Sister Fear. She closed her eyes, the torment of indecision wrecking her features, but when she opened them again her face was set and determined. "_No_." she said.

"I will kill him. You know that. And then you will die as well. I'm trying to be kind, Lady." Sister Fear told her. And then she was blasted from behind by a shot of spellfire.

"The old man's curse has been broken. Your friend is safe." the masked sorceress said. "Perhaps it is time to show us why these people fear you."

"Impossible." Sister Fear said airily, getting to her feet. "No one can break a curse in the blood."

"That's all you know, Child." the sorceress said. She held her hands out and then brought them together, clapping them loudly. A shot of green lightening sliced through the air towards Sister Fear, who pulled up a spellfire shield to block it. The shield shattered and a blast of green sent Sister Fear flying towards Raven, who immediately switched her attention to the greater threat and caught her up in a net of spellfire.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!" Raven wrapped the net around Sister Fear and made it tight as the cultist lost her color. The armored sorceress augmented this trap with a bubble of her own spellfire.

Sister Fear screamed. There were no clear words in that scream, it was more like a modulated yowl of something none of them understood. She shattered all the bindings with a blast of red that threw Raven across the battlefield. Rorek caught her, soaring on his spellfire disk.

Sister Fear rose into the air and threw bolts of something red-black and sickly out over the cellar. They were very much like the first blast of spellfire Raven had seen. They had texture, and that texture was like the insides of something organic and alive. She wasn't aiming for any_one_, though. Instead it seemed she had meant to hit the walls and floor – and she had. Everywhere the bolts hit there were…_things_ rising up. Sickly white things with veins of red. Some of them had human forms, some just seemed to have arms, legs, and a head but no real notion of where these things should actually be. One thing was just a mass of arms, another had too many heads, few of them had any actual faces and those that did were horrible. Black holes for eyes, no noses, and gaping toothless maws for mouths.

The hired fists (at least, those who were still conscious) screamed and ran out of the cellar. The remaining cultists just sort of pulled back.

The five heroes pulled together, their backs to one another as the creatures began to surround them. "What is this?" Batman hissed.

"Glang." Rorek answered.

Batman threw a bladed boomerang at one of them, catching it in what appeared to be its head. It stuck there and exploded. Half the creature was missing but the other half was still moving.

"How do we stop them?" Batman asked.

"Start hacking until they stop moving." Malchior answered. He raised a fist and let loose several blasts of spellfire at once. "And _don't_ let them grab you. Daanik, Raven! What did I just say?-!"

Raven's eyes glowed red and the small glang that had grabbed her leg turned black and white just before she ripped it apart. It let out a shriek and disappeared.

They weren't difficult to destroy, but they kept coming! Spellfire was flying, Batman's bombs were going in all directions, and Lady Eisen was suddenly with them wielding a huge claymore in one hand that she was swinging about as though it were no more cumbersome than a dagger. And the other magic-users in the area weren't just standing back. They were throwing spellfire of their own, though they were staying well out of the danger zone and well away from the glang.

"What do I do when they've got hold of me and turned into some sort of cast around my leg?-!" Batman yelled out.

"Kiss your leg goodbye and blast it off!" Malchior shouted.

But Raven flew over to Batman and turned the sickly red-white thing black-white, then broke it apart. "This isn't working!" she shouted, creating a barrier of spellfire around them all to stop the glang.

"No, Raven! That won't work! They'll just cover the barrier! Take it down now!" Rorek shouted. She did so immediately.

_Enough of this._ Raven thought. "Azarath Metrion Zinthos!" She hovered above the others and dipped down, down deep into her core where there was still power sleeping dormant within. She woke it up, drew it out, and that shining chaotic nebula of power filled her mind. All the colors of her emotions crackling, lashing out to fill her veins and wake up what was there. She pulled out as much power as she'd used against Rorek, perhaps more. And she let it loose.

Everything lost color. All the glang were ripped to pieces, pieces of furniture went flying through the air at the cultists and continued to fly after them until they'd passed out. A spare speaker threw itself at Sister Fear but she blasted it to pieces. The places where the glang had been emerging were erased like chalk dust and Raven continued to throw boxes and spare equipment at Sister Fear. But Sister Fear continued to blast the projectiles apart. Then Raven flew forward and threw actual spellfire at the woman which she blocked with her own spellfire. Said spellfire was, however, now gray in color.

"How far can you go, Raven?" Sister Fear asked tauntingly. "How much is too much? That's a lot of power, are you slipping? I think you are." She threw a blast of that ugly textured spellfire at Raven, but she pulled up a shield.

Too late Malchior shouted. "NO RAVEN! DODGE IT!"

The blast went through Raven's shield and hit her square in the chest. But it didn't do anything. She looked back at Sister Fear. Stupid, stupid girl. She raised a hand to finish her off but stopped.

Her hand…it was…it was _red_. The _skin_ was _red_, and _her_ nails _were_ long, _claw_-_like_, and _black_. _What_? No! _No_ _this_ couldn't _be_ _happening_! _She'd_ gone _too_ _far_! _There_ was _too_ _much_ _power_, too _much_! _She_ _was_ _using_ too _much_! _She_ _had_ _to_ pull _back_ _now_! _She_ _was_ in _control_, _she_ _could_ _pull_ it _back_, _she_ _could_—

_Her hair was white, she felt a second pair of eyes, yellow eyes, and there was a crown of horns on her head. She was looking at Jump City, she was looking at the world. There was fire everywhere, fire and stone. The world was in her hand like some toy globe. So small, so insignificant, and all life was stone, all things burned._

_No…_

"_**Daddy's little girl."**_

_It was all gone. Gone. And this time it was **her** fault. **She** did this, **she** destroyed everything. She'd let her power get out of control, she'd used too much, let herself draw up too much for too long and now **she** had destroyed the world just as her father had tried to do. She knew this would happen, she **knew** it and yet she still went and dipped into that power, didn't she? Because she'd **needed** it, because it was there and if she didn't give everything she had to stopping the evil before her then it would be her fault if they failed. She didn't have the **luxury** of not using it; did not have the right to leave it dormant when there was still something she could do to change a situation. But now? She'd been afraid this might happen for so long. Why didn't she listen to her own fear?-! Now she'd become what she'd hated most and her deepest fear had come true._

_She could see them all. Nightwing, Starfire, Beast Boy, Cyborg, Aqualad, Herald, Argent, Melvin, Teether, Timmy, and…and…_

_Malchior and Rorek, frozen in stone, and they were fighting one another again. But this wasn't just some sibling squabble. They were trying to kill one another…because of **her**. They'd died fighting and it was all her fault._

"_NO!" she screamed._

_She saw a face in front of her. One of flesh, but otherwise she couldn't seem to describe it. A hand was held out to her and there was something in it. A small rag doll with button eyes and a stitched smile. Raven's hand went to her belt where she pulled out the thing she'd picked up from the shadows. It was the same rag doll. When she looked back up the figure was gone._

_So was everything else._

She opened her eyes, had she been asleep? There was spellfire flying everywhere. The glang were back, though there weren't quite so many. Malchior and Rorek were on either side of her, fending the disgusting things off. The world had regained its color, but her power had not retreated from her body. Raven brought her hand up and found the rag doll was there. She also noticed something else. She was wearing a pair of silvery blue metal rings on each of her middle fingers. They were simple curved bands with no ornamentation and no stones set into the metal. But the color was very strange. Were they cobalt? No, the blue wasn't quite right for cobalt. And anyway, most cobalt didn't stay blue when you processed and polished it. The doll she could understand, but the rings? Where had they come from?

She could wonder about that later. She stood up, still holding the doll. "Just her. Do you promise?" she whispered to it.

The doll's head swung back and forward in her hand.

"Swear it?"

The doll nodded again.

Raven fed her power into the doll. What little color it had faded away.

This time the world _didn't_ go black and white. The lights flickered. When they came back on the glang had simply disappeared. Everyone paused. The lights started to flicker again. And in one brief moment of light Raven thought she saw—

A hand went over her eyes, but she could still sense the flickering. Someone screamed. Rorek shouted for everyone to close their eyes. And then…the lights went out entirely.

The scream that rose up was absolutely terrifying. Raven felt Malchior and Rorek close in on either side of her, their hands groping for her in the absolute black that met her when one of them took their hand from her eyes. Her own hands found them and she pulled them close, keeping her eyes shut as though that might help. The scream kept going, though. And it went on long after human lungs should have run out of air.

"I cannot make a light!" the sorceress called out, shouting to be heard above the scream.

"_Good_!" Malchior snarled back. "Stop trying you fool!"

Raven wondered if she was scared. She didn't feel scared, she felt numb. Perhaps she was so scared she _couldn't_ feel it. Her arms seemed to feel it well enough, though. She was clutching the twins tightly and she could feel her own body tremble. The wait became agonizing. The scream had ended but the lights had yet to come back on and neither Malchior nor Rorek were letting her go. One of them had his hand in her hair and he was stroking it gently.

Then the lights flickered back on. Raven was still trembling, but she pulled herself together and looked around. There was no sign of Sister Fear. Somehow that was worse than finding a horribly mangled corpse.

"She…she's gone…did she escape?" Lady Eisen asked, sounding just as shaken as Raven felt.

"No. She didn't." Rorek answered. Neither he nor Malchior were willing to let Raven go completely. She almost wished they'd start arguing and snipping at each other again but they weren't. They were just standing on either side of her, one with a hand on her back and the other around her shoulders.

"But…where…?"

"I wouldn't want to know if I were you." said the sorceress. "Those who use such magics do not realize that there are consequences beyond anything the mortal realm offers. Even so…I have never even heard of an instance as…potent as this one."

"You can spare us the details." Batman said. "Are you sure she isn't going to come back?"

"The only thing left of her is the soul. Two guesses as to where it is now." Malchior replied nastily. He was shaking, but relaxed when Raven touched her fingers to the hand around her shoulder. He reached down and took that hand, gripping it tightly in his own. Raven squeezed it and then pulled away, gently untangling herself from the arms wrapped around her.

"What should we do with them?" Raven asked, waving a hand at the cultists.

"Leave that to me." the armored sorceress said. She raised a hand and, in a flash of green, the cultists were gone.

"Come on. Let's go make sure the Doctor is okay." Batman said.

"Are you sure the curse was broken?" Lady Eisen asked desperately, her sword disappearing into some unseen sub-space pocket.

"It was." the sorceress answered, nodding. "Come see for yourself."

(O)

Thor and the others (all save Argent who'd had to be sent back to the tower to wait off the effects of the absinthe) had rounded up the cult's hired hands who were all now being taken off to prison. Two of them – the two who had seen what Thanatos did to the one who managed to catch Belladonna in the arm with a knife – were jabbering to Batman about everything they knew. It wasn't much, unfortunately.

Lady Eisen was having a hard time controlling herself. She'd had to be stopped before giving the perfectly healthy and living Docter a hug that might have changed the healthy part and was now very gently holding him, sobbing, and going on and on in German about how glad she was that he was alright and how sorry she was and everything in-between.

Raven wasn't sure where Malchior was. She assumed he went off somewhere with Thor to help look for any stragglers, but Rorek wasn't leaving her side. She had another shadow too. The strange armored sorceress who'd yet to offer any name didn't seem to have anything better to do than linger somewhere near Raven as though waiting for Rorek to be called off for something. But after some time Malchior returned and now Raven had both of them sticking to her like glue.

"Miss Raven?"

Raven turned to find Lady Eisen talking to her. "Yes?"

"I would like to be a Teen Titan." she said with a grin. She had a very good American accent. One would hardly guess she was native German.

"You'll want to talk to Argent. She's the head of the Titans Europe." Raven said.

"Actually I was intending to go to the Americas. In fact, I am thinking I'll go to Gotham City where the Church of Blood has set up their headquarters somewhere. Apparently my power frightens them so much they came all this way to blackmail me into staying with the band. Batman is going to take care of my living arrangements since there's no T-Tower in Gotham." she said.

"We may be seeing each other again, then." Raven said. "What _is_ your power, anyway?"

"I can manipulate metal." she answered. "Mostly I just use this power to make it fly through the air, but it's amazing just what all you can do when you don't need heat or special tools to bend a lead pipe into any shape you want. Iron is my favorite, though."

"[Really? I would never have guessed.]" Raven said in fluent German, causing Lady Eisen to laugh. 'Eisen' was, in fact, German for 'iron'.

"I also have a developing power to emit electromagnetic pulses. I'm not sure what sort of use I'll be able to put into creating magnets, but somehow I got the feeling that was what the Church of Blood was afraid of. Apparently electromagnetic waves disrupt something." she mused.

"Well, Argent will get you a communicator and I'm sure she can think up something silly and embarrassing for you to do as an initiation." Raven told her. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you."

When lady Eisen had gone Malchior looked at Raven. "You know German?" he asked.

Raven nodded. "And Latin, and Romanian, Ancient Sumerian, and Sanskrit." she listed.

"Oh…"

"Raven, a word?"

Raven looked 'round at Batman. He had that unnamed sorceress with him, but she nodded, wondering what this was about.

Batman glanced at Malchior and Rorek. "Alone, if you please?"

Malchior crossed his arms over his chest. "Try again."

"I'll be alright. I _can_ take care of myself." she told him gently. She still had a lot of power coursing through her. The moment she got back to the tower she would meditate and pull it all back in. Right now she was stuck with it.

"Oh yes? Why weren't you wearing iron, Raven?" the black dragon growled.

"I _was_." she came back. "There's iron in these." she said, taping the setting of her gem.

"Not enough." Rorek told her. "Not nearly enough." He turned to Batman. "You ask too much at this time, Sir. There is still much fear. You do no understand what we just faced and you should treasure that ignorance. However, we understood, and the terror clings to us still. We are not leaving Raven alone. It is not a matter of trust but of fear. If you must speak to her alone, wait for the morrow when the fear has faded." he said. "We might, however, be willing stand back and simply not intrude on the conversation."

Batman looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

They found an empty room. Raven was now wondering just who the sorceress was. She had the unpleasant feeling that she knew but she wasn't going to say. It was one heck of a leap and it begged the question of why on earth she was helping Batman.

But it seemed Batman had something to say to the twins too (or one of them at least) and now was as good a time as any to get it out. "I appreciate your help, don't get me wrong, but I can't say I approve of your methods." This was said directly at Malchior.

"Really? Well I can't say I approve of your choice in magical assistance. Lucky for us the monsters decided to band together against the bigger monster, yes?" Malchior returned, shrugging.

"You know her?" Raven asked him.

"He's a friend of yours?" Batman asked the sorceress.

"I'm afraid we've never met. I never forget a face, and I certainly wouldn't forget a face like _that_." she answered.

"No, we've never met, but you have one hell of a reputation, _My Lady_. I don't suppose you could curb my curiosity? I am willing to accept that even you wouldn't want any Blood Magic practitioners around to mess things up, but it occurs to me to wonder why you are working with the Batman here rather than on your own."

"Would you mind informing the rest of us what you are going on about?" Rorek asked.

"You're Morgaine Le Fay." Raven guessed aloud. Even so she was incredibly relieved when the armored sorceress nodded. "Didn't she try to take over the world?" she asked Batman.

"It's a long story." Batman answered.

"And the end result is that I am under a very binding contract. One signed in blood." the sorceress told them.

"I'll give you the shortened version: Quite a few years ago her son, Mordred, destroyed the magic that kept him young but not the part where it kept him alive."

"Meaning he got old but couldn't die. Nice." Malchior snorted.

"Exactly. Just recently Diana – Wonder Woman, that is – produced a means of returning his youth to him. Well, most of it anyway. He may not be a child anymore but he _is_ youthful."

"Ambrosia?" Raven asked.

Batman raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm thinking the Amazons believe that to be one of their better-kept secrets."

"It is." she said, "And the Monks of Azarath are more than willing to help them keep it."

He decided to accept this at face-value. "In return for this, Le Fay and her son both agreed to forego their ambitions and refrain from using their powers for ill." Batman explained. "They have also agreed to assist us when we require it – which was the whole reason for giving Mordred the Ambrosia to begin with. Though after that first issue was dealt with the contract allows her the right to refuse a request."

"As you said: Not even I want any Blood Magic practitioners around." Morgaine Le Fay added.

"Though one of the reasons she agreed to help was for the chance to speak to you about that black book." Batman told Raven.

Le Fay nodded. "I would have preferred to speak to you alone. However, if our audience will agree to remain silent I have no qualms about their staying here." She looked at Batman, who nodded.

Raven looked at the twins, both of whom gave their own nods of ascent. Then she turned to the sorceress. "What's this about?" she asked.

"I am wondering how much you know of the book."

Raven only just managed to avoid glancing at Rorek. "Enough, I think." she answered, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you interested in it? Can you read the language it's written in?"

"No, but I do not need to. There are ways of extracting knowledge from written words whether you know the language or not." the ancient sorceress answered. "It is called The Mortix, and in the time of Camelot it was something like a crown. Owned only by the greatest of wizards and sorcerers down each generation. Merlin was the last to possess it before you. No doubt he hid it away like so many other things so that I would not possess it."

Raven smacked herself in the face, "So that whole thing about 'whoever owns it is the greatest' that's been going around isn't just some stupid rumor gleaned from a twist of Bruce Wayne's words, huh?" she groaned.

"No, it is not. And I am not the only one who still remembers it. There are records, and there are long memories." Le Fay explained.

"And…you want _what_ exactly?" Raven asked.

"Raven, you have the kind of power that I only ever dreamed of." Morgaine told her. "But you do not know how to use it to its greatest potential. If you did, you could have simply waved away Sister Fear's Blood Magic as though it were nothing. This is not your fault, of course. Such knowledge has long since been lost for mages such as you were rare even in the 15th century. But I have such knowledge. I could teach you. I could show you secrets that go beyond molecules and atoms, show you where to find the forgotten worlds carved by dragons, teach you to cast your eyes across the ages, touch the minds of beasts, open your senses to the dimensions where life itself has color and sound, and I could show you how to read The Mortix. All I ask is an hour of time to look through the pages for myself."

Raven stared at her, frowning with suspicion. "You're offering quite a lot for comparatively little in return. What's the catch?"

"Nothing. I would have made this offer whether you had The Mortix or not. Especially after what I saw today. You have great power, Raven. More, I suspect, than you showed earlier. And yet you fear it, do you not? So you do not use it unless you must and you are wise for it. But if you learn to control it, to know it, to maintain your will over it, then you need not fear that it might one day control _you_. I can give this to you. You need never fear your power again." Morgaine Le Fay explained.

"Why?" Raven demanded flatly and suspiciously. The offer was tempting…_way_ too tempting. She remembered her hallucination during the battle with Sister Fear. It didn't take too much thinking to realize where Sister _Fear_ had very likely gotten her name. It must have been some sort of waking nightmare that paralyzed you with the things you dreaded the most. It hadn't been real. She knew that now. But…

Had Morgaine Le Fay seen it? Or was she simply guessing? Maybe there was no 'simply' about it. Morgaine Le Fay certainly had the experience Batman wanted in his magical assistance.

"Put simply: I'm bored." Le Fay answered. "The blood contract has robbed me of my ambitions. All that occupies my son and I now is existence. Having an apprentice of greater potential than the wispy whelps that are all the modern day seems able to develop would give me a valuable use of the time I now have so much of." Morgaine Le Fay stepped forward and held out her hand to Raven. "Think of how much more you could do if you needn't fear your power, Raven."

Raven's eyes narrowed and she felt Malchior's hand on her shoulder. The two had promised not to butt into the conversation, but she could sense that Malchior _really_ wanted to. He didn't need to, though.

"No." she said. "I don't trust you." Le Fay had not reformed, not like Malchior. She'd been beaten down and was being held there by force. What was more, she wanted Raven to say 'yes' so badly that Raven could feel it. This was some plan. They couldn't trust her. They could only trust her as far as the contract kept her bound.

Malchior squeezed her shoulder and then released it.

"Think about what you're giving up, Raven. You know how old I am, and my magic is even older. I possess knowledge as ancient as the wizard Rorek, author of The Mortix. Who else could possibly provide the knowledge and training you need to truly master your power?"

Raven was suddenly aware of a hushed chatter going on behind her.

"Aal zu tinvaak rek?"

"Nid."

"Ofandun?"

"Nid."

"Ofandun."

"_Nid_."

"_Ofandun_!"

"Daanik, Mahkriiod, nid!"

"Hi krii zu…"

"Kos nahlot!"

The two then realized they had everyone's attention.

"[You two are making it very hard for me to keep a straight face. You know that, right?]" Raven admonished in Draconic.

"He started it." Rorek said.

"Guilty." Malchior admitted unapologetically.

"Sorry," Raven said, turning back to Morgaine Le Fay. "But I don't trust you." she finished.

"Think about it." the sorceress said, lowering her hand. "I have all the time in the world, though I can't help but wonder how much time the world has." She turned, created a portal on the wall with a wave of her hand, and walk towards it. "When your need of that power becomes greater than your fear, I'll be waiting." she said with a last look over her shoulder. She disappeared and the portal vanished after her.

"I didn't know that was what she wanted. I thought it was just about the book." Batman admitted when she'd gone.

"Tell me something: As a reformed villain, am I allowed to kill her if she finds some way of betraying us?" Malchior asked.

"Malchior…" Raven sighed. This was turning into a very long night.

"Raven, before we go I'd like to know if you have any idea why the Church of Blood might be after you?" Batman asked.

"_What_?" Malchior hissed.

"They're what?-!" Rorek gasped.

_Thank you, Batman. I wasn't really planning to tell them that part._ Raven thought irritably. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "No, I don't." which was _partly_ true. Trigon was gone, what did they want her for? Revenge? No, it didn't seem like it. "Same reason Morgaine Le Fay wanted me?" she asked.

Malchior's hand was on her shoulder again.

"Mmmm…I suggest you be careful from now on. And I'll be sure to keep you posted about anything I find out. I'm not sure how many more of the cultists are in Europe right now but I imagine they'll be headed back to Gotham."

"Are you still going to insist on dealing with this matter yourself?" Malchior demanded, stepping forward and bristling with anger. "The last time the practitioners of Blood Magic cooperated with such organization they did not have the advantages this modern era presents!"

"I'll be taking Lady Eisen with me and I'll keep in contact with the Jump City Titans. But for the time being I have no other leads. I don't know where their headquarters are and there have been no more strange murders as of yet. None that we've found, anyway. What do you suggest I do? Raise an alarm that might leek out into a full-spread panic? If the Teen Titans come to Gotham people are going to wonder why. I will let you know when I have something solid. Satisfied?"

Rorek put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "New world, new rules. I don't think we can get away with barging into people's homes with a dousing rod this time around, do you?" he asked.

Malchior yanked his shoulder away. "I know this world better than you, Rorek. Don't tell _me_ what can and cannot be done!" He turned and stalked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Rorek demanded.

"To cool my head. A good idea, don't you think? You stay with Raven." Malchior snarled.

Silence rang out when he slammed the door behind him. An imprint of rage and fear was left behind. It took Raven a moment to realize that the two were woven together. Fear causing rage, rage burning hot as a defense against it. And Malchior was fighting it, fighting both emotions. Was now a good time to leave him alone?

Batman spoke first. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he began in a very thoughtful voice, "But isn't Malchior supposed to be a dragon? One that was defeated by the ancient wizard Rorek? Would that be some sort of sibling rivalry, then?"

Rorek sighed. "Like you wouldn't believe. Very perceptive of you, Sir. I had rather hoped you wouldn't catch that."

"So you were both sealed into books." Batman deduced. "Are you a dragon as well, or was that some form of shapeshifting on his part?" he asked.

"I am also a dragon, yes. It is a long story. In short I believed I was human for a long time. I lost my memories, you understand." Rorek explained. "Those of us who call ourselves 'Dovah' have human forms."

"What is the difference between a 'Dovah' and a 'dragon'?" Batman asked.

"The difference between a human and an ape. Cognitive capabilities, abstract conceptualization, self-awareness, and, most importantly of all, a soul." Rorek answered. "We have, in other words, the ability to discern between right and wrong; the ability to perceive that there are such things as right and wrong."

"And Malchior has been released from the book again because…?" Batman looked at Raven.

"He reformed and has promised no more rampaging." she answered. She expected more questioning, but instead Batman just regarded her with a strange look that went on for far longer than was necessary. She just stared back, stilling her emotions so her expression gave nothing.

"Nightwing hasn't told me any of this." Batman said, though she wondered if this was simply as a means of breaking their staring match without a declared loser.

"You don't always tell him everything about your teammates." she pointed out.

He let the matter drop.

"I would appreciate it if you would keep your peace as well so that I might have mine, if you understand me." Rorek said.

"Yes, I understand." Batman nodded. He was good at keeping secrets.

"I'm going after Malchior." Raven announced.

"I don't know if that is such a good idea." Rorek offered.

"He can cool his head when we're back at the tower and there are no innocent bystanders to get shouted at for some offhand comment." Raven stated.

(8)

A/N: Alright, so when I wrote this out I, for some reason, had this idea that the whole Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table deal happened somewhere around the 15th century rather than, as the Wikipedia article tells me (which, of course, MUST be true) the 5th or 6th. So, um…does anyone care that I've changed it up? 'Cause I've also found somewhere it claims they might have taken place sometime during the 10th or 11th century as well. (I AM SO CONFUSED!-!-!) It was for a good cause! If I had the Arthurian legends happen _before_ Rorek and Malchior's lives took place then the hilarious bit of irony where Morgaine Le Fay mentions Rorek would not have happened. (And also she wouldn't have any interest in the Mortix since her own knowledge would be older. So that plot point would kind of die…)

Coming up in the next chapter:  
I'll use the old-style method of dropping him from a few thousand feet in the air and telling him to miss the ground.

For anyone who actually needs a translation to Malchior and Rorek's little spat (though I'm pretty sure it was self-explanatory):  
Malchior: Can I tell her?  
Rorek: No.  
Malchior: Please?  
Rorek: No.  
Malchior: Please.  
Rorek: _No_.  
Malchior: _Please_!  
Rorek: Damn it, Malchior, no!  
Malchior: You're killing me…  
Rorek: Shut up!


	26. Knots

A/N: Two rings to rule them all / Two rings to…wait…

(8)

_Within the greatest structure of the tree-top city I found the bleach-white skeleton of a man whose silk robes somehow remained whole, clinging to the dark green and deep blue dyes of its make. He had been lain out in the middle of the chamber with hands folded around a single scroll upon his chest. The scroll, like the robes, bore no sign of age. Curious and believing the scroll to possess some knowledge of this ancient sorcerer, I took it from his hands and, suddenly, knew that I was holding no words of record or prose._

_This was not the item I had come to collect. My quest had been for the story told by the dragon humans called Nidhoggr. But now that I had this item I found I could not return it to its place, though part of me knew I should. This sorcerer had died in the execution of his duty and I was robbing his corpse. Later, however, when I confessed my sin to Madam Crow she chuckled at me, as she so often does, and told me that the scrolls must be used. Only then will they be gone for good. And so now the scroll was mine._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

Rorek followed Raven right up to the point where they found Malchior sitting on top of one of the stadium's high flood lights looking out across the barren terrain that stretched off to the east before meeting distant city lights. She flew up to him but Rorek stayed behind. That was probably a good idea. She sat down next to him along the thick metal and they were quiet for a while. She could feel his rage simmering down. It felt strange being able to sense his strong emotions. She'd gotten use to the paper man who was (haha) a closed book to her. But now he was flesh and, if she wanted to, she could pick out every small flash of emotion he experienced. She didn't, though. That was too much an invasion of privacy which, at its strongest, was almost like mind-reading. Oh she couldn't detect actual thoughts, but thoughts and emotions weren't quite as indistinguishable from one another as people believed. If you could sense a person's emotions then, even if the thoughts weren't obvious, they were certainly easy enough to guess if you also took them in context.

Unless, of course, they were daydreaming. Daydreamers could experience emotions so out of sync with their environment and current situation that once it actually gave her a small headache.

She sat next to Malchior in silence for a while. He glanced at her and then looked away. Before she could perceive this as some sort of rejection, however, he reached out and gripped her hand so tightly in his that it was just on the edge of hurting. More silence. Finally she found something safe and neutral to break it with. "So, how come you can fly naturally but Rorek can't?" she asked.

Malchior snorted. "All Dovah fly by way of innate magic. Think about it, Raven. Do you honestly thing something as big as a dragon could fly _without_ magic? Absolutely not. At best we could only glide and even then I'm pretty sure the air friction would rip my wings right off if I tried. In truth the wings are only there to help us learn and give us an extra boost. The only reason Rorek _can't_ is because he hasn't spent enough time as a dragon to figure it out. That's going to be a bit of a drawback for him in this era. Your spellfire trick works well enough but it isn't going to cut it in the long run."

That made sense. "You could teach him, though. Couldn't you?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Find us somewhere desolate where we won't be seen and yes, I'm sure I could. Could be fun." he mused.

Raven stared at him, waiting for the punch line. There was no way Malchior would admit to looking forward to an outing with Rorek in the spirit of fraternal fellowship. There had to be something—

"I'll use the old-style method of dropping him from a few thousand feet in the air and telling him to miss the ground."

Ah, there it was.

"Helpful advice." Raven snorted.

"Very helpful! Considering what will happen to a several-thousand-pound dragon if he _doesn't_." Malchior chuckled. His grip on her hand wasn't quite so tight anymore. He wove his fingers through hers and the movement reminded her of the blue metal rings on each middle finger. They were fitted so perfectly that she'd forgotten them almost entirely in the excitement.

"Do you have any idea how I got these rings?" she asked, rubbing the base of her middle finger against his skin so he knew what she was talking about.

"Yes." he answered, "We put them on you. And you're going to wear them until this entire ordeal is over. If you'd been wearing them during your fight against Sister Fear then her spell wouldn't have affected you quite so much. I'm pretty sure they're the reason you managed to pull yourself out of it; though I admit I didn't think that would work with the magic already in your blood."

"They're not lodestones, then."

"All the lodestones we had lost their power over the years. They're just rocks now. No, the rings are iron."

"_Just_ iron? They're blue."

"A very _special_ kind of iron."

"And you're not going to tell me what's so special about it, are you?"

"Mmm, nope!" Malchior answered cheerfully, the American slang cascading so strangely from his lips that she couldn't even pretend to be irritated. But then he chuckled. "Just kidding. They're pure iron, _completely_ pure. They were cast by Nibelungen – ancestors of the dwarves – long before we were born. I don't know why they are blue in color or why they don't rust or even why they're so strong. Pure iron is actually rather soft; it just makes some of the strongest alloys. Rorek and I uncovered them when we were fighting against the first outbreak of organized Blood Magic. They were better than any enchanted blade." he mused.

"I'll get Cyborg to make me something with more iron in it so you can have them back." she said.

"No, Raven. _You_ wear them. It's _you_ they're after…and we both know why…whether they do or not." he added darkly.

She did _not_ want to talk about this. If she did…she'd have to admit that the reason the cult wanted her probably had nothing to do with the Tartarian gods. And that would lead to telling him about her father—which she wasn't quite ready to do. She knew she was going to tell the both of them eventually, but there was something hanging in the back of her mind that made her hesitate. It was a thought she was only almost having, but it scared her. She wasn't entirely sure why, but for some reason she felt terrified of their reactions. Rorek didn't know who Scath was, but Malchior had been aware. She was almost sure that he, at least, would know, and would probably know him by whatever name he'd had before 'Trigon'. If Malchior and Rorek's names had changed so much over the years (how does one get 'Grindel' and 'Beowulf' out of 'Malchior' and 'Rorek'?) then no doubt Trigon's had as well. She wondered what names the Greek and Roman gods had had before the modern tongue turned them into 'Zeus', 'Hera', 'Hades' and so on.

Malchior let go of her hand so he could bring his arm around her shoulders. He hugged her tightly like that and she allowed it for a moment. Then she pulled away. "Are you ready to leave?" she asked. He nodded, but his eyes were still so troubled. She reached up and touched his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. "I'm sure we'll get through this just like you did the first time this happened." she told him.

"Perhaps, but at what cost?" he asked softly, opening his eyes to look at her again. "You scared me back there Raven." he murmured, clutching her hand against his cheek. At first she wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. Did he know what she did? Did he know she had something to do with the strength of the thing that killed Sister Fear? Had he seen the doll? But then he went on, "When I saw you in that circle…I was only angry before. Angry at Rorek for forcing us to wait and listen to Argent tell us what happened and what we were dealing with, and then angry that we couldn't find you. And then…that stupid woman had no idea what she was messing with and it cost her. Circles, those kinds of circles, are like swords. You have to know how to use them; you have to know where the blade is. You know how, when you bring out a sword, it automatically puts people on their guard? Makes them nervous, defensive, maybe even a bit fearful if you're acting stupid enough? Well that's how it works with the circles. Only it isn't _people_, it's…"

"Whatever killed Sister Fear?" Raven supplied. He nodded.

"The last time I saw a binding circle like that used by some fool who didn't really know what they were doing…it was the trapped one who died." he murmured.

She wouldn't have died, she knew that. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. Malchior didn't, though. And he knew _exactly_ what Sister Fear should have, herself, been afraid of. Suddenly the terrible way he'd conducted himself towards Madam Rouge and Fulgorite made a lot more sense. He'd been terrified, but he didn't know how to channel those emotions into a focus like she did. So he'd turned it into rage. Thinking of it like that, she was more than a little impressed that he'd been able to stop himself from killing Rouge and Fulgorite right then and there.

"Thank you…for not killing them." she murmured.

"They're not the ones who put you in the circle." he said. She didn't need to tell him what 'them' she was talking about. "I would not have spared Sister Fear. I hope you understand that."

She nodded. "Let's go."

(O)

A bed never seemed so inviting, but she couldn't sleep – not yet. She had to meditate, she really did. She wanted to be alone to do it but she couldn't have pried the twins off her tail with a crowbar and some acid bombs so she just focused and pretended they weren't there. Doing this in the living room and roof of the Jump City tower had helped. She didn't always get the quiet she preferred but having an open vista in front of her was much better than the confines of her room, even with the chatter. Of course, there was always the option of opening her window and hovering in front of it but…somehow it just wasn't the same.

At least Malchior and Rorek were being quiet. Well, mostly. Well, they were whispering. Well they _tried_ to be quiet. They were at least made the effort to be quiet.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that, grade school?"

"I've been asleep for a thousand years and I'm a bit rusty, okay?"

"And getting rustier. You punch like a girl."

"Yeah, yeah. And I look like a girl, and I walk like a girl, talk like a girl, and even have a girly pet. Get over it."

"Pet? What pet?"

She was sure she'd told Malchior about Ru at some point or other. Oh, yes, she'd told him just after getting Eric's makeover. Apparently he didn't pay any attention. Figures.

Raven shut them out. She could listen to their bickering any time she wanted. Right now she had to focus.

This wasn't good. There was more there than she'd used against Rorek; more than she had ever brought out before. And what scared her the most was how little it seemed to effect her. You would expect discomfort from it, you would expect it to loom, to sit there and grin at her, waiting for the slightest slip in her concentration for it to break out and get out of control like it use to whenever her emotions slipped. But it didn't.

It was like…no. The way she thought about power was this: the magic-user was a bowl and the power they had to use at any given time was a bunch of marbles. You could have a full bowl and still be able to carry it around without the marbles dropping and getting out, but the more marbles that were in there the more careful you had to be. You could always feel it when you had too many marbles. There was a pressure; a sense of danger. It was like…yes, it was the reason magic-users took Wormwood. If you had too much power in you then that was like having a big huge crayon and trying to use magics that required a delicate touch was impossible.

She did not feel that pressure, even now.

This seemed to indicate that, not only did she have more power, but she also had a bigger bowl for that power. Why? When had it happened? Why had it happened? What did it all mean? Was it simply because of how much more physically fit she was? Or was there something else?

She remembered Malchior telling her about how breeding between magical races wasn't as cut and dry as it was going from nationality to nationality in the case of humans. A human and dragon could come together and what you got wasn't half one and half the other. It was more complicated than that. Did the same apply for demons? What were demons like Trigon called in their time? What name did Scath use back then? Was she only half-demon, or was she all demon with a human mind? Was she both at the same time?

Was she becoming her father? He was definitely the kind of parent who would eat his children. Could he be eating her now even though he was gone? _Was_ he gone? Was it possible that she hadn't actually killed him? Was it possible that he was involved in all of this? Or was she right in thinking the Church of Blood had nothing to do with the Tartarian gods, at least to their own minds? Were the gods just going using the Blood Magic's degenerative effects to get free with her help?

Too many questions, not enough information. What benefit would it do her to dwell on it now?

_But what's happening to me?_ she asked desperately, her thoughts echoing back from the void of her own mind, deep in meditation.

She pulled the power back down, down deep where it could be locked away and kept there. _She'd_ never needed Wormwood. The Monks of Azarath knew how to handle powers like this without it.

How much was too much? How far was too far? If she dared to dig down deep to find the limit, what might rise up out of her core? Red skin? White hair? Four yellow eyes?

The end of the world, maybe?

And what if Morgan Le Fay could help her? What if she knew things that the twins didn't? Raven doubted it, but she felt hesitant about asking Rorek and Malchior for help because she knew the subject of her lineage would have to be addressed. It needed to be anyway and she knew that. She just wasn't ready.

And why was that? Was it because she was afraid they'd know Trigon by some other name? Why did that matter? If they were her friends, her real friends, then they'd look at her and not at who her father was. It wouldn't matter to them what she was. They were friends...

Who, exactly, was she trying to fool? She didn't let any of the others weave their fingers through hers. She didn't sit up on the roof talking about the kids to Starfire. She didn't touch Nightwing's cheek to calm him down. She didn't let Cyborg or Beast Boy shadow her like that even after a particularly upsetting mission.

But there were _two_ of them!

She felt so close and comfortable with Malchior. In fact she'd never felt closer to anyone but Azar. And yet a deep part of her just flat out _wanted_ Rorek. She didn't know who to choose. Maybe that was a good thing. It meant that she wasn't running the risk of picking one of them as a 'more than friends' option. It meant she couldn't come between them like Vergonda did.

She'd need to visit Nevermore again as soon as they got home. It was getting harder to keep them as just friends. She wanted more…she wanted it a lot more than she really should.

Cleared and clean of both power and emotions, she turned and found the twins had fallen asleep leaning on one another. It was absolutely adorable, and way too much of a temptation. She pulled out her communicator and took a picture, grinning the entire time and trying not to feel just a bit jealous. What would it be like to have a silfron? To be intrinsically linked with another person? It had to be torture when you were apart, but together? It meant you'd never be alone. How could that be a curse?

They were probably going to have another fiery argument – no, hang on, this was close enough to England so change that to 'flaming row' – about this when they woke up. She was tempted to go grab some blankets and let them sleep up here but decided against it. She bent down between them and shook them both by the shoulder.

"Malchior, Rorek, wake up. I'm sure your beds will be a lot more comfortable." she said.

She wasn't sure how it happened. Two pairs of hands were involved, they had to be. But they had worked with such synchronization that they could have all four belonged to one person. The end result was that she was suddenly sitting up against the stone crenellation with one dragon on either side and they were both snuggling into her with their arms wrapped around her. It wasn't a very comfortable position. She was leaning against the stone at an awkward angle and stone wasn't exactly soft. But...

No, no buts. There were two ways she could react to this. She could get mad or she could get awkward. She decided on a third option: Irate.

"Do I look like a pillow to you two?" she demanded, managing to get her arms crossed despite all the other arms in the way. Her tone was sharp enough that it managed to rouse the two of them. But for a moment they just blinked at her. "If you both don't let go of me and go get into your own beds then that picture I just took of you leaning against each other will be all over the internet by tomorrow morning. Understood?" she demanded.

"Alright, alright, we'll let go. In a minute." Malchior purred, nuzzling her neck.

Raven smacked him with the back of her hand. "Cut it out!" she snapped, grateful she'd just meditated or she'd probably be blushing right about now. She was blushing anyway, wasn't she? She turned into a flock of ravens to get out of their arms and the two of them butted heads. _That_ woke them up. They instantly leapt back from each other as she pulled herself back together in front of them. "You two can stay up here if you like. But _I'm_ going to bed."

"We're really _very_ sorry, Lady Raven!" Rorek gasped out.

"Liar." Malchior muttered.

"Oi!"

Raven left them to it, melting through the walls back into her room because she was too tired to teleport. Then she threw herself into her bed, cloak and all, and tried desperately not to cry.

How much more of this could she take? Meditating obviously wasn't helping her but for short periods of time and now all that meditating she'd just done had been _undone_ in regards to her feelings for the twins. She couldn't deny how _good_ it'd felt with both of them wrapped around her like that. It was lucky she'd just meditated. If she hadn't then there was no way she could have been able to deal with that with so much outward flippancy.

Raven curled up into a ball, clutching her pillow in her arms and hugging it tightly as the tears seeped out of her eyes.

She needed someone to talk to about this. She really, _really_ needed someone to talk to about this. Normally she'd have gone to Nightwing with something like this, but that was probably a bad idea at the moment. She didn't want to interrupt anything. Obviously things weren't going so bad that either Nightwing or Starfire felt they needed to call her again. That also seemed to indicate that, at the very least, they were a bit too occupied with _something_ to wonder how things were going between Malchior and Rorek.

But who _could_ she talk to? Who could she trust to keep their mouth shut about it all?

Raven smiled to herself. Of course. There was at least one other Titan who was about as chatty as she was, and what Argent couldn't keep a secret she could at least be counted on to forget afterwards.

It had been a long day. She was exhausted. Emotionally and physically exhausted.

And she couldn't sleep.

Without thinking too much about it, Raven took the white book from her belt and slipped it up under her pillow. Then she grumpily began to divest herself of her belt, boots, and cloak. When she laid her head back down on the pillow she was asleep in seconds. When she arrived in her dreamscape she laid herself down on the bed she'd made for herself and slipped down into actual dreams.

(O)

"**I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"**

"**It is done."**

"**Then I will find a way to undo it!"**

"**How, Child? You do not even truly understand the spell you have just woven."**

"**I must try. Even if it kills me I must try. I will find a way to release you."**

"**Such an enchantment is beyond my own knowledge. Where will you start your search?"**

"**I will find the one called Madam Crow…"**

"**Aaaah."**

Raven woke up and rubbed her eyes.

What a strange dream.

(O)

Breakfast was a bit subdued. Or rather, it tried to be subdued and gloomy. Last night had been tiring and, though the three involved hadn't gone into too much detail, frightening. Then the twins started bickering again and it didn't last.

"Where did you learn your table manners, a grain house?"

"Says the one who chews with his mouth open."

"I do not. And you are supposed to—"

"Prove it!"

"You are _supposed_ to ask someone to pass you a dish! Not reach over and grab it!"

"I was only reaching for the salt."

"When your arm has to go far enough you must to sit up then simply ask!"

"Oh go powder your hair, Prima Donna."

"Prima Donna? What do you mean by—OI!"

"Ha! Just caught that did you?"

"Where did you learn how to be a gentleman anyway?-!"

"From you. Not a very good teacher are you?"

"I've half a mind to give you remedial lessons."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Wish granted!"

"Wha—what are you doing?-!"

"First lesson: Sitting up straight."

"Get off me you blasted prick!"

"And here I thought my meals would be boring without Cyborg and Beast Boy providing entertainment." Raven mused as Malchior and Rorek started rolling around the open space of the living room attempting to strangle one another. Amazing how those scarves stayed on despite all the rough play.

"Looks like they're going to have some competition when you get back." Thor snickered. "20 euro says they rip the carpet this time."

"Hey, Argent, did you want to go to that magic-user emporium you were talking about today?" Raven asked.

"Sure. You want to bring the twins along? They might find something interesting." Argent mused.

Quite aside from the fact that this was actually going to be her excuse to talk to Argent _about_ the two, Raven very pointedly looked at the carpet that Rorek's vambrace had somehow torn. Thor might have been happy about that had anyone actually taken him up on his bet. She looked back at Argent. "Let's say no." she answered.

"Oh come on. We'll just keep them separated. I'll take Malchior and you take Rorek and we'll walk in-between them." Argent said.

Before Raven could think of some other reason to object Argent had gotten up and hovered over the struggling pile of humanoid dragon.

"Hey guys!" she shouted, trying to get their attention.

"Yes, Lady Argent?" Rorek asked politely without the slightest pause in his activity.

"What do you want?" Malchior demanded.

"Malchior!" Rorek snapped angrily. "Pay him no mind, Madam, he is only being rude to irritate me. Anyway, you were saying?"

Argent was laughing. "Do you two want to go shopping with Raven and me?" she asked.

"Sounds excellent! Does he have to come?" Rorek asked, pressing his brother's face into the carpet, but only managing to keep it there for a short time.

"Just try to leave me behind, Swan Princess!"

Raven smacked her face down on the table and tried very, very hard _not_ to bust out laughing at the images that appeared suddenly in her head. She couldn't help but wonder whether Malchior realized that the ballerina who plays Odette in that particular ballet often plays Odile as well just with a black costume instead of a white one. When she looked up she immediately knew for a fact that Belladonna had caught on to that and had turned her face away from the scene to hide her silent laughter.

Well that idea backfired. But maybe she would have some time to suggest to Argent that she'd like to talk alone sometime during the trip.

Raven finished off her breakfast and put the dishes away before walking over to the struggle. "Alright, you two. If you're coming with us you're going to cut that out or else I really _will_ start acting like your mother."

Both twins suddenly froze up and stared at her with identical looks of wide-eyed horror in their eyes. Then Malchior's eyes leered.

"I think I am going to call your bluff on that, Raven. You couldn't act like our mother if you tried." he said.

"I didn't mean your actual mother!" she exclaimed, slapping herself in the face. "I _meant_ that I would nag like one." she sighed. "You two get your hair brushed out and we'll go."

(O)

It appeared as though Argent's previous attraction to Rorek had switched to Malchior when he showed up, which didn't really surprise Raven. His coloring was more Argent's style – the only problem being that, if you didn't look at their actual faces, they might appear related. This was just as well, though, since if Argent had latched on to Rorek's arm the way she did Malchior then Rorek would have been extremely uncomfortable but too polite to say anything. Malchior was just grumpy and had no qualms about voicing his objections.

"Unhand me, woman! Don't you already have a man to cling to?" Malchior demanded.

Argent just laughed. "No," she snorted.

"Really," Malchior drawled, looking directly and unashamedly at Thor, who probably wasn't aware that he'd been scowling. Malchior turned back to Argent. "I believe you have been misinformed." he said, which brought Thor up short. But Argent wasn't paying attention.

"We need a portal to Knots, Thanatos." the European Titan instructed.

Rorek chuckled, but softly. He held an arm out to Raven as though he were escorting her to a party of some sort. "Shall we, M'Lady?" he asked. Raven couldn't help but wonder if such a gesture was even around back before Rorek had been sealed in the book. But perhaps history and fashion weren't the only things that repeated themselves. Still, this was a bit of a surprise for another reason.

"You don't mind me touching you?" she asked cautiously.

"Not at all." he told her comfortably. _'I would do nearly anything for __**your**__ touch, Lady.'_

_Oh not again!_ she thought. It hadn't happened for a while so she thought it might have stopped. No such luck, though. She shoved the strange unvoiced words to the back of her mind and took Rorek's arm. They then followed Argent and Malchior through the portal.

Their sudden appearance next to a building with a sign saying 'Knots' hanging out in front of it caused no comment _what_soever despite the group of middle-aged people huddled in front of the glass window consulting some bit of paper. Oh a few of them glanced up but it was just a glance and nothing more.

The inside of Knots was set up much the same as the Wax Ribbon was but it was much smaller, had only one floor, and all the shops were set up around the large restaurant/café floor. It was much better decorated, though. The whole 'knot' theme was very much in evidence along walls, the ceiling, and various decorative pillars. There were also pictures of other things such as swords, shields, crowns, and, of course, shamrocks (which Americans tended to call 'clovers').

Contrary to popular belief, not everyone who lived in Ireland had an Irish accent and they _certainly_ didn't go around saying 'top of the morn'n to ya' unless they were making fun of the silly tourists. No one in Knots was going to make fun of a tourist because you wouldn't get the normal kind of tourist in here. Despite how decorative the inside was, the outside had been as dull and humdrum as possible and was stationed along a street that would need a demolition team, a construction crew, and about 50,000 euro before it would attract anyone who didn't know what Knots was or that it was there. Raven was starting to see a trend here. But she could see the logic. Self-respecting shops like the Wax Ribbon and Knots who catered with any seriousness to the magic-users of the community wouldn't want to advertise. Oh you were going to get those customers who thought a lot of makeup, black hair dye, and ridiculous ornamentation was all it took to become a mysterious sorcerer, but at least this way they would be few and far-between.

Though, Raven noticed, there weren't any of them in Knots at the moment. In fact there weren't that many people in there to begin with, and most of them weren't really dressed up at all. These days jeans and a t-shirt was the common uniform of your typical magic-user, and what your typical magic-user really wanted out of a shop like this was a book of spells that had something in it which would get that nasty stubborn stain out of the carpet and stop the dishwasher leaving soap scum on their pots.

The two girls suddenly realized that they were walking further into the mini mall alone (they'd had to let go of their escorts in order to get in through the door). They stopped and looked over at the twins, who were staring around at the decoration with odd looks on their faces. Malchior's expression was grim. Rorek's was simply guarded, but she could _feel_ his disquiet. They were hissing to one another in Draconic so softly that all Raven could tell was that they were speaking, though she got the impression that Malchior was trying to reassure his brother about something. She approached them.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing. Rorek's just being touchy." Malchior answered mildly.

"It is _not_ nothing and I am _not_ being 'touchy'!" Rorek snapped angrily. He jabbed a finger at the large intricate knot that decorated the ceiling. "This is as bad as the crop circles! And these are magic-users, are they not? They have no business being so foolish and ignorant!"

"You mean the Celtic knots? It's just a design. It doesn't mean anything. What's the big deal?" Argent asked.

"It is _not_ just a design!" Rorek exclaimed. He was _incredibly_ upset and getting more and more angry. That was frightening. Rorek wasn't the kind to lose control like this and he certainly wasn't the type to cause a scene. Raven took him by the arm and led him back out of the door just in time to avoid the store hand who was coming over to see what the trouble was.

The sign above the small shop (well, it was small on the _outside_ anyway) had a basic trinity knot underneath the shop's name. Rorek probably hadn't noticed it so she pulled him into the ally before he did in case it agitated him even more.

She let him go when they were alone and he leaned up against the wall, his face buried in his hands. "A design…just a design…" he murmured. "I cannot believe this. Crop circles, Celtic knots…These things aren't just…just _things_! How can Malchior be so calm about this?-!" he demanded.

"He's had time to come to terms with it, I guess." Raven mused. "Rorek, it's not as bad as you might think. I don't know what the circles or the knots meant in your time but in this time they're all over the place and nothing really happens. Malchior once told me that, back in your time, magic was a bit softer and things leaked. In this time that's not the case. Usually you need more than just a symbol and an intent for magic to work. Crop circles are done for fun and Celtic knots really are just designs." she explained.

Rorek looked up at her, and there was real torment in his eyes. It was almost scary. "They are not just designs, Raven." he whispered. Then he reached up and, with both hands, pulled down his scarf.

Immediately Raven was struck by the sight of him. He had no facial hair, not even a hint, and if she'd thought he was handsome before with the scarf on it was _nothing_ to how he looked without it. He was drop-dead _gorgeous_. Not girly, exactly. Though he did have somewhat feminine features; full lips, smooth skin, angular profile. The word 'pretty' wasn't really appropriate. The word 'beautiful' _was_. It was inhuman…then again, he wasn't human was he?

But, when she adjusted to the shock, she was able to see details. And so she saw the marks. They were mirrored on both sides of his face, the lines coming from just under his ear were braided together in a very basic weave until they got to a point on his cheek that was just between his ear and his nose where they made a far more complicated knot. Then from that knot they went straight down to his jaw to his neck and disappeared behind the turtle neck of his bodysuit which, she also noticed, had a small silver button on the side.

But they weren't marks. They were pale white and slightly…off. Not marks, not tattoos. They were _scars_.

Raven reached out to touch them but realized what she was doing just in time and drew her hand back. "Those…what are those?" she asked quietly. "Are they…everywhere?"

Rorek took off one of his gauntlets, put it in his sub-space pocket, and then pulled back the sleeve to show her both the back of his hand as well as the wrist. "Yes." he answered grimly.

The intricate weave wrapped around his wrist, came out into a very slight arrow shape down the back of his hand, and then continued down his wrist from the arrow. The scars were so detailed, so precise – there were even spaces so small it was were more like a texture meant to indicate where one line lapped over another so that there was no doubt the pattern was meant to be a weave. When he pulled the sleeve of his black suite back further she could see that the weave spread out along his bicep, presumably turning into multiple weaves that wound more intricately and strongly the closer they became to his chest. Somewhere down there it seemed that the design sort of split so that the scars themselves were no longer the 'string', as it were, but lines to indicate where the string was.

This time she couldn't stop herself. Raven touched the band around his wrist with her fingers. She _felt_ the tissue damage. These really _were_ scars, and they were old. They were the kind that would never heal, not by themselves. And if Rorek, with all his power and knowledge, could not remove them…

"Rorek, what _are_ these?" she asked, looking up into his face. It was strange being able to see his entire expression, the way his lips curved and the scars moved slightly as the muscles in his cheeks flexed. He looked away and shook his head, his eyes closed.

"Something…very, very wrong." he murmured. "Something our mother did to us…long ago…"

"Us?" she choked out. "Malchior too?"

He nodded. "His are darker. My skin color on his flesh, his color on mine. Other than that they are exactly the same. A very old and very potent wizard woman attempted to remove the magic but…it didn't work. Not fully. These marks will never leave. Our mother is…was…simply too powerful." he murmured.

"What _is_ it, though?" she murmured.

"An experiment." he sighed. "One that worked all too well. The weaves are bindings, and they are marks that are not meant to appear on flesh. Not like this, and not in the way she used them. They are suppose to be in twine, shaped metals, perhaps even in plastic. They are supposed to be _made_, not _painted on_. String and iron; these are safe mediums. One can even mold a design of it onto iron if you are careful and know what you are doing. But this? No, it should not be done like this."

It was so strange watching his lips move as he spoke like this. She was so close to him that his subtle scent, a sort of sweet musk with a hint of pine and maybe a little vanilla, was prominent and…familiar. Like she'd smelled it before but not from him. She liked it a lot. She was suddenly seized with the desire to—

_NO! FOCUS! DON'T THINK ABOUT THAT!_ she yelled at herself sharply. "Is this deep magic again?" she asked aloud.

Rorek shook his head. "No, but it is very old. So old that even in my time knowledge of it was scarce. But it seems the most potent of things cling to the world down the ages." he murmured.

"Magic is different now." she told him softly. "You need more than just a symbol and an intention to use it. Whatever these did back in your time they don't do it now or I would have heard of it. Celtic knots are very popular designs. They're all over the place. I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Perhaps…perhaps this is a good thing. Perhaps it means they cannot be used the way they were any longer. I apologize for my reaction. Malchior assured me it was a small thing but I wouldn't listen."

Raven thought about how _she_ might have felt if her birthmarks suddenly became a popular design and shook her head. "No, I completely understand. If I'd been in your position…I probably would have caused property damage."

He smiled and chuckled. It was an _amazing_ smile.

"So…that's why you two wear scarves? To hide the scars?" she asked him. She was mildly aware that she was still running her fingers over his wrist and the back of his hand. He wasn't pulling away or showing even the slightest indication if discomfort, though. In fact, it almost seemed her touch was calming him down. Just like it did Malchior.

"Yes…it is not exactly something we like to showcase. Though I get the feeling Malchior stopped caring long ago. Perhaps he simply got over it when the marks became aesthetic ornamentation." he mused.

"It hurt…didn't it?"

"It was agony…for both of us." he answered softly. "Madam Crow once told me that the purpose of hardships and trials are to strengthen and galvanize the spirit. Galvanized against what, however? The question is a bit frightening. What could the future hold that we must have such strength to withstand it? What could we face that is worse than what we have already experienced?"

"Blood Magic?" Raven offered.

Another smile, a bitter one. "You know…I think you may be right about that. After this, Blood Magic did not frighten us nearly as much as it used to. We, Malchior and I, back before Vergonda, we were instrumental in the downfall of the first organization. Perhaps this was thanks to our lack of the paralyzing terror that claimed most knights during those dark days. Nothing Blood Magic could do to us was worse than what we had already been through. Of course, it helped that we were dragons. Blood Magic cannot easily extract its power from the children of Pahmonah. There is a reason why, but it is a bit difficult to explain and I'm not entirely sure I understand it in any case."

"What do you mean 'the children of Pahmonah'? I thought Maartuz was the first dragon."

"Oh, you don't know that story? I would have thought Malchior might have told you by now." he mused. "Yes, Maartuz was the first dragon. But he was the son of Onik, who was the son of Pahmonah and Koraavvah. The story goes that Onik waged war against his parents, every telling seems to have a different reason for why, but during the battle Pahmonah's flesh was torn and it fell to the earth where it became the ancestors of the magical creatures known today only in myths and legends. Griffins, minotaurs, manticores, phoenixes, leviathans, sirens, and so on."

"Where was Maartuz in all this?"

"The stories can't seem to agree on that any more than they are able to figure out who won and who lost. Some say he was fighting alongside his father, others say he denied his father and fled, and still others say that he was the one who struck the killing blow to Koraavvah. All they seem to agree on is that there was a battle, Pahmonah's flesh was in some way responsible for the magical creatures of the world, Koraavvah died, but Pahmonah did not. Some say Onik died as well, others say he was simply punished, and others say he won the fight and banished his mother only to face the wrath of Iiam Bormah Himself. One way or another, Pahmonah is the mother of all magical creatures."

"Onik…that directly translates to 'wisdom'. Ironic. But Koraavvah…that means 'fresh water', doesn't it?" Raven asked. It was a combination of words that actually meant 'see' and 'spring', so by the weird twisted up logic of Draconic it could just as easily be describing a field of flowers. Still, somehow that option didn't seem right.

"It does. Did Malchior teach you that?"

"No, it just…feels right." she answered.

Rorek cocked his head at her. "Are you absolutely sure that you—"

"Oh good, you're done being angsty. Are you two coming or not?" Malchior's voice demanded from the mouth of the ally.

Rorek pulled his scarf back up swiftly as though he were shy about his own brother seeing him without it, but he was smiling underneath. "Actually we were having quite a nice time chatting back here so if you could clear off for a while longer that would be smashing." he answered, replacing his sleeve and gauntlet while he spoke.

"Very funny. Come on!"

(8)

A/N: And so now we know why Malchior and Rorek (well, Rorek anyway) wear those scarves! And I've pretty much slit my own throat because any desire I might have to draw either of them shirtless (drool) would take an INSANE amount of time and effort and learning how to draw Celtic knots. Oh well. The size of image that FF allows would be too small for any real detail anyway.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
So…girl talk. How do we do that again?

Too bad having Raven go 'screw this', grab Rorek, and kiss him right then and there would be a bit too OOC…

PS: Would like to reiterate my thanks to all of you who take the time to pick out and detail all my spelling and grammar errors. Especially you, Cinis. YOU'RE AWESOME! :D (BTW, did I use 'affected' right? 'Cause I'm not sure about that…)


	27. Moon Troubles

A/N: Proper girl talk requires at least one member of the party to have some experience and some idea of what the crap they're doing.

(8)

"_Time eats his children. The first escaped. The last devoured him." When I found the Dragon Stone with this verse upon it I felt very strange. Madam Crow watched me with curious eyes and asked after my well-being but I could not put to words the reason or nature of my disquiet. I asked her for knowledge of the meaning behind the verse and the strange words at the very bottom of the monument and she told me what it all meant. Having no memory of my own parents I understood the verse only by second-hand knowledge. As for the words below, that was another matter._

_Whether it was the power of my Gift of Tongues or, perhaps, some draconic blood in my veins I did not know. All I knew was that these words burned themselves into my mind where they shone like stars in the night's sky. I knew the words were now mine._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 27 – Moon Troubles**

"So…girl talk." Argent began. "How do we do that again?"

"Dunno. I think we're supposed to talk about boys." Raven answered.

It was evening. Raven had, by some miracle, managed to get the hint across to Argent that she wanted some girl time. So they were now holed up in Argent's room and with a silencing barrier around it. However, there had been some miscommunication in there. Raven wished she had specified, but perhaps having Belladonna here too wouldn't be so bad.

Both Raven and Argent turned to the gray-haired girl, who gave them a nervous smile and shrugged. "I am sorry, I do not know any more zan eizer of you." she admitted sheepishly.

Of course, it would be horribly stereotypical to assume that all French girls knew everything about everything when it came to love and boys and so on. All the same, that was a bit of a surprise. Belladonna was very cute in Raven's opinion. And, as far as she could tell, the French culture was a bit less shy about emotions than the American culture. Maybe Belladonna just didn't have any time for boys when she was growing up.

"Well, the most interesting guys I've come across so far are Malchior and Rorek but they're both in love with Raven so the rest of us are just out of luck." Argent mused.

And, quite suddenly, Raven decided she didn't really want to have this conversation anymore. She wasn't sure why, but she suspected that it had something to do with the way Argent said that. It gave her the impression she would be getting _no_ sympathy _what_soever from her sort-of-kind-of friend. She could wait until they were back at the T-Tower and she had some time alone with Nightwing. Nightwing would understand. Argent…probably not.

"On second thought: Let's just paint each others' nails." Raven said.

"Cool. I've got black and red." Argent said.

"I have silver." Belladonna offered.

"Any blue?" Raven asked.

"Oui! I will go get it!"

It turned into a slumber party of sorts. The girls dragged a bunch of pillows and blankets into Argent's room, got a bowl of popcorn, and then proceeded to watch very silly cartoons, most of which none of them understood since it seemed a lot of the jokes were contextual and you had to know a lot more about the Irish culture in order to understand them. Since Belladonna was French, Agent was from New Zealand, and Raven had been born in another dimension altogether but was mostly familiar with American culture, this meant that most of the fun they had was in making guesses about the jokes. Guesses which got progressively more stupid as the night wore on.

Argent was the first to fall asleep. And so, as per standing order, Raven and Belladonna proceeded to draw on her face with a marker. This might be an infamous prank popular primarily in Japan, but it was one that any culture could get into, really. Raven doodled her random designs on her half of Argent's face while Belladonna's side was covered with eyes for some reason.

Once they were done they took a picture and returned to the cartoons. However, Raven got the feeling that Belladonna wasn't really paying much attention to them. Soon enough Belladonna spoke up.

"So…do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"About what?" Though Raven had the sinking suspicion she knew.

Belladonna gave her a comforting smile. "I will have no advice to give you, but I can listen and I can keep secrets."

For a moment Raven considered it. But…no, she didn't really know Belladonna. She seemed nice but…well…she just didn't know her well enough. She wasn't really very comfortable bearing her soul to someone she'd only known for a few days.

"Thanks, I appreciate it but…I guess I only thought I wanted to talk about it." Raven mused. "What about you? Any crushes?"

Belladonna smiled and Raven could see a blush forming on the one visible half of her face. "I kind of like Zanatos…" she whispered.

"_Really_?"

"He does not speak very much, but when he does…" She gave Raven a particularly large and girly smile. Then the two of them looked over at Argent.

"So is it a secret that Thor is carrying a torch for her?" Raven asked.

"Only to her. Unfortunately ze only boys she seems interested in are yours."

Raven held up a finger and spoke in a calm, clear voice. "They are not mine."

"Zat is only your opinion." Belladonna informed her. "Zey fight over you, you know. Oh zey only do it when you are gone and in zat odd language of zeirs, but it does not fool anyone. Zanatos says zey are being incredibly stupid about it but I do not know what he meant. Maybe zat it's not up to zem who you choose, or even if you choose eizer." she mused.

"Relationships are kind of hard in this line of work." Raven muttered.

"Zat is certainly ze case for some more zan ozers." Belladonna said with a sheepish grin. "I never had time for boys when I was younger."

"I'd suggest that the team split up to handle different missions. You are good in the middle of the fray, Thanatos is best at a distance. You'd make a good team, so would Argent and Thor." Raven put forward.

"Zat is true…" Belladonna looked thoughtful.

Raven turned her attention back to the cartoons. She had no idea what was going on but considering she'd been about as lost even with all her attention on the beginning of the episode this wasn't such a big deal.

Belladonna fell asleep soon after that but Raven decided against drawing on her face. Besides, the rule never said anything about drawing on the _second_ person who fell asleep. Raven herself was having trouble _getting_ to sleep.

Again.

_This is ridiculous. Go to sleep!_ she commanded herself. Herself did not listen. She sighed and gave the ceiling a stubborn look. Alright then, she would just stay up all night. Her body had to sleep sometime. It would just have to get use to the fact that Malchior wasn't in the room anymore.

(O)

"Guess what, Rae!"

Raven stared at the image of Cyborg on her communicator. "You're…um…pink."

"I'M KING OF THE RAINBOW! BOW BEFORE ME! Ahem, anyway, guess who just caught our fearless leader and his seven-year crush in a very telling position which they attempted to cover up with some stupid 'fixing his mask' explanation."

Raven brightened up. "Mission success?" she asked eagerly.

"Considering the fact that it looked like they'd been locking lips on that couch for a while before I called, yes, I would say so. What about your end?" he asked.

"See for yourself." Raven turned her communicator around to point it at Malchior and Rorek, who were engaging in their morning fist-fight/wrestling match and growling at each other in Draconic so low that she couldn't distinguish words and wasn't even hearing it with her _ears_. She turned the communicator back around so Cyborg was facing her again. "I tried to get them to do that outside but Thor has too much fun and the property damage is usually minimal." she told him. "This _is_ how boys show affection for one another, right?" she asked.

Cyborg laughed. "Boo-yah! So, you think we can drop the act and head home? Don't get me wrong, I like it here and all, but I'm kinda missing our own tower."

"Yeah, alright. I'll send Nightwing an e-mail to let him know we'll be on our way. I might be a while, though. I'm going to need to add more space to the pod for the trip back." she glanced up, hearing a crash. Fortunately the sofa only fell on its back and nothing appeared to be broken. "A _lot_ more space." she decided. Cyborg snickered.

(O)

For three people on a short journey there was plenty of room even if there wasn't enough furniture. Make two of those siblings who were catching up on a thousand years of rivalry and there was nothing like enough room. But it would have to do. There was an upper limit to just how much space you could shove into an area in which you had to sort of stretch out the materials that made up walls and ceilings and so forth. Right now it was big enough to bunk five people comfortably. At least in the back.

Malchior and Rorek were fighting over the passenger seat.

"You sat there the entire time on the way here, you prick!"

"You were up front as well, if I recall!"

"I was in a book bag! It doesn't count!"

"You still did not have to stay in the back on one of the beds, you bastard!"

"Pretty boy!"

"Privy paper!"

And the name-calling continued with the result that the resolution would, of course, be left up to Raven. Oh well, at least they listened to her. She was still waiting for the 'you're not our mother' line to turn up but it never did. Maybe on some level they understood how immature they were acting and doing what she told them was their way of apologizing for it.

They had a goodbye game of Cutter – the Titans Europe's made-up card game – and then there was the hugging thing that only Belladonna was very comfortable with. Rorek bore it well enough, Malchior didn't care, and Raven was proud of herself for hugging back. Argent hugged Raven but that was about it. She also produced, with a grin that said she knew very well how much Raven would be irate with her for it, the corset that Raven had 'accidentally' left out during her packing.

"Don't want to forget this, do you?" Argent asked cheerfully.

"Gee…thanks…" Raven grumbled, putting it in a sub-space pocket.

The fridge was restocked with food stuffs and plenty of snack items. Turned out Rorek was a big fan of popcorn while Malchior preferred potato chips so they had plenty of that shoved into the small pantry. Eventually they were ready to get going. All they had to do now was figure out the seating arrangements.

"Alright, look! You two will just have to take turns! We'll flip a coin to see who goes first." Raven said.

Malchior won.

The Titans Europe waved them off as they left. When the pod was out of sight Thor turned to Belladonna with a curious expression. "I still don't see why we didn't just offer to let Thanatos make them a portal so they could be there in an instant." he said.

Belladonna sighed and rolled her eyes. It was lucky enough that Raven didn't know just how big Thanatos could make his portals or she'd undoubtedly have asked. She settled for saying, "Ze jetlag would have been terrible. Besides, ze trip back will extend zeir vacation time."

Argent snickered. "I'd feel sorry for Raven if I wasn't so jealous." she mused.

(O)

"Can we listen to the music of Flowing Tears?"

"Not yet, I like this song!"

"Why? Half of the vocals are not even singing. They are just shouting."

"I like to think of it as roaring, and I like the roaring. What band did you say this was again, Raven?"

"Tristania."

"I cannot even understand the lyrics!"

"And Flowing Tears has _such_ clear vocals."

"Alright, look, we'll compromise! Flowing Tears' newest album has some screamo in it; we'll listen to that, okay? I'll queue it up."

"Screamo?"

"What Malchior calls 'roaring'. It's actually a type of vocalization though it's not exactly 'screaming'. You can't actually scream like that or you'll destroy your vocal cords so there's a trick to it. It's actually quite fun when you get the hang of it."

"_You_ can roar like that? Can you teach me?"

"Make you a deal: You teach Rorek how to fly without his spellfire and I'll teach you screamo."

"Oh very well. So, what are you reading?"

"An anthology of various Arthurian legends. Did you know that, in the stories, Mordred and Arthur killed one another?"

"Makes you wonder who the brat is that Morgaine clings to, huh?"

"Or just how much these old stories got wrong."

"What are we talking about again?"

"Oh that's right, you wouldn't know about all that, would you, Dear Brother?"

"Perhaps if you would _tell me_ these things…"

And the bickering started again. Raven just tuned them out, even when Malchior folded up the passenger seat and tackled his brother. So long as the beds and the fridge stayed in-tact she didn't care. She'd put in enough space for them to wrestle. As they didn't throw each other into the walls and kept it completely sans-magic then things should be okay. Rorek didn't seem to have Malchior's strength, but he certainly had the stamina to keep up and he knew enough about leverage that he was an equal match.

Several minutes later and Raven suddenly realized that she'd stopped hearing any sounds of violence and she craned her head around her seat to see what was going on. From where she sat it looked like the two were engaging in a staring contest now. They sat cross-legged across from each other with arms folded over their chests and their eyes locked in an identical leer. They looked so focused that Raven was tempted to turn off the gravity control and do a few loops just to watch them fly around. But she decided against it. She went back to her book.

Some of the legends seemed to claim that Morgaine Le Fay (most often with the spelling of 'Morgan') was part fairy, others said she simply had dealings with the fairy folk, and others theorized that she was just angry at the way Christianity was demonizing all their gods and drawing the populous away from the gods they called 'fay'. A primary example being the infamous Horned God, often called Cernunnos (or Pan, those two get mixed up a lot), whose very likeness became the popular look for Satan himself.

Of course, from what she now knew about gods, Raven couldn't help but wonder if these Celtic gods really needed any help being demonized. She wondered if they were sealed in scrolls as well. She'd ask Malchior about that later.

They were just in sight of the coast as night began to fall and had found plenty of small remote islands to settle down on. Raven got her shower first then Rorek. After getting her hair braided she pulled out the air mattress she'd bought and started pumping it. Before she'd gotten through two full pumps the little hand pump was snatched up.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, startled.

"_I'll_ do that." he stated.

"No you don't. _I'm_ sleeping on the air mattress so _I'll_ be the one to pump it." she stated, grabbing the pump back.

"Who says _you're_ sleeping on the floor?" he asked, swiping it again.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor, I'm sleeping on the air mattress."

"_Why_? The beds might be smaller but they're sturdy and much better for your back."

"Two reasons: First: Because the beds are situated on opposite sides of our extended space and cannot get any farther apart. And second: Because, if I let you, the two of you will argue over who gets the bed and who gets the mattress. I would like to get some sleep tonight."

"There won't be any arguing. I'll take the mattress since I'm going to be the one pumping it and I will simply scoot it up next to your bed so Rorek and I will still be separated." he told her.

"Mmm, no."

"Alright, then let's forget the air mattress." He lunged and suddenly scooped her up into his arms, causing her to yelp in surprise. He was so fast! "How about you just sleep in my arms like you did a few nights ago?" he whispered, his soft scarf brushing against the side of her face near her ear.

"Malchior! Cut that out!" she exclaimed indignantly, putting a hand on his face and pushing in her attempt to get out of his arms. Then he started to tickle her. She let out a shriek before she was able to stop it and redoubled her struggles, managing to get a leg in there and thanking all the yoga she'd been doing lately for it.

Suddenly Rorek burst out of the shower. "What is going on?-!" he demanded sharply.

"Your brother is assaulting me! And laughing about it!" Raven exclaimed.

"Just admit your ticklish and I'll stop."

"I am _not_ ticklish! You just surprised me! Stop that right now! It's annoying!"

"It's annoying because you are ticklish! ACH!"

Suddenly Malchior's grip lessened enough that Raven was able to escape, but that was only because Rorek had come up behind him and yanked on his hair. "Keep your hands off the Lady, Malchior! I cannot believe you would do such a thing!" Rorek shouted in outrage.

That was when Raven noticed Rorek's state of dress. Or rather, his lack thereof. He was wearing nothing more than the pants of his black bodysuit, his hair was still damp and plastered down his face, and his scars were…everywhere. She got a full view of the large intricate knot across his back when Malchior flipped them around and the two started wrestling again, growling and snarling at one another with just noises and no actual words. Then Malchior slammed him up against the wall and she caught sight of his chest as well, but only for a moment. Still, that moment managed to burn itself into her brain and she couldn't let go of it. Much as she was sure whatever had made those scars had been horrible, there was no denying just how breathtakingly beautiful they were. Rorek too, come to that.

Raven was so taken aback that it wasn't until she started wishing Malchior was shirtless too when she realized she'd been staring for a full five minutes. She shook herself, knowing that there was a large, attentive smile on a certain violet-cloaked part of her in Nevermore, and turned her attention to pumping the mattress.

"At this rate you're going to need a second shower, Rorek, and we only have so much hot water." she warned after getting the mattress mostly full.

It was probably the reminder that they had an audience which stopped the fighting this time.

"Are you aware, brother of mine, that you are currently half-naked?"

Rorek let out a strangled cry, spluttered apologies to Raven, and ran back into the bathroom.

Malchior appeared again at Raven's side, leering at her. "You are supposed to let me do that." he told her grumpily.

"You were busy. Besides: I already said that _I'm_ going to be sleeping on the air mattress." she stated.

"And I said you should take one of the beds." he said, grabbing the pump once again.

"Malchior!" she snapped, snatching the pump back. He let it go, to her slight surprise, and she was able to continue pumping in silence. She was glad of that, though she wondered why. No, she knew why, and she hated herself for it.

It felt like she was being constantly taunted with what she knew she couldn't have. Malchior's presence, Rorek's beauty…she knew they weren't doing it on purpose, of course. Not this. Still…it hurt, and she was getting tired of it. Tired of the wanting, the longing, and constantly having to hold back, to keep herself in check, to keep them both at arm's length so she didn't become the reason for another fissure.

It was simply becoming too much. And some of that emotion must have seeped into her voice.

"I think the mattress is full, Raven." Malchior said gently, as though she were some sort of wild animal ready to lash out. Perhaps she was, though at this point she'd more likely burst into tears. That'd probably be worse.

She didn't speak, she just nodded and plugged it up. Then she dressed it, pushed it between the two beds, and settled in for the night. She heard Rorek come out of the shower and Malchior go in. They didn't speak, but for some reason Rorek was just as quiet as Malchior. She was grateful for it. She wasn't sure if she could handle him trying to talk to her.

The silence continued even after Malchior got out of the shower. It was a tense silence, very tense. Malchior turned the lights off from his side of the ship. Only when darkness had descended did Raven let the tears go. She managed to keep herself quiet but she wasn't sure how well that fooled the twins.

It didn't fool Malchior. As soon as she had slipped into her dreamscape he was there, waiting for her in the bedchamber she'd made for herself.

"Raven, what's wrong?" he asked, but she ignored him. She walked past him, slipped into the bed, and buried herself into the covers. "Raven…I'm sorry. Whatever I did…"

"Just go." she whispered. "I'll get over it. Just go."

He was quiet for a minute, then he said, "No, I'm not leaving. Tell me what's wrong." She felt a hand on her hair, but she couldn't deal with this, she just couldn't. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything. Maybe she should. Maybe if the two of them realized what they were doing to her they'd stop.

Or maybe they'd just blame the other for her abstinence.

"It's nothing." she lied, knowing her voice betrayed her. She wished he'd stop touching her, but she lacked the willpower and, let's face it, the honest desire to tell him so. "I just…haven't been meditating as much as I should have this week! That's all! I'll get over it, okay?-!"

"Oh."

There was a bit too much understanding in that 'oh' of his. She wondered what conclusion he had drawn up, but it didn't matter. Whatever it was got his fingers out of her hair and his presence out of her dreamscape.

And suddenly she wanted him to come back and it _hurt_. Everything _hurt_ and she couldn't seem to figure out what she should do or shouldn't do or wanted or didn't want and she was all out of sorts! What was wrong with her? She felt like she was trapped in her own skin and she wanted to scream until she could rip out of herself and shed this deluge of haphazard emotions.

…

What day was it?

Raven opened her eyes back up in the real world and, under the cover of her blankets, she checked the date on her communicator.

Oh.

Well, in a way this was a bit of a relief. At least she'd been telling the truth; she really _hadn't_ been meditating as much as she should. Especially when there was a full moon coming around.

She shifted around into a more comfortable position and returned to her dreamscape where she sat up and decided to perform an experiment. Could one meditate in a dreamscape? Well she was going to find out.

(O)

She felt better. A _lot_ better. And, though she felt kinda guilty for the thought, it did help that Malchior and Rorek were keeping their peace; both with her and each other. One of them had even woken up early and fixed her breakfast for her. Probably Rorek. It was frozen waffles warmed up in the microwave, but the thought was still there and it was very sweet.

A very feminine part of her wanted to burst into tears for reasons that the rest of her simply couldn't comprehend, but Raven had had a lifetime of controlling her emotions. She'd let herself go lax the past few years but now would be a good time to draw back up those years of training.

They'd just reached the mainland when the fighting started up again. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. She was mildly aware that they were pushing each other out of the way trying to ask her something but she kept her focus on her book until she realized the arguing had stopped. _Then_ she looked 'round and found them both staring at her expectantly, pressed awkwardly together so that they were occupying the space left by the folded up passenger chair. "Yes? Did you need something?"

"You didn't hear any of that, did you?" Malchior demanded accusingly.

"Sorry, no. After seven years of Cyborg and Beast Boy one tends to learn how to tune out childish bickering. If you want me to pay attention to an argument then you're going to have to adjust the tone of it so I know I'm suppose to listen. Talking to one another in calm, reasonable tones while refraining from the name-calling and fist-fighting might just do the trick." she mused. "So, what did you need me to hear?"

"While we're out here why don't we go ahead and find somewhere desolate so I can teach Pr—I mean Rorek, here, to fly without his spellfire?" Malchior asked in a deliberately calm and reasonable voice.

"I don't see why not." except she did. It meant one more night sleeping in the room with _both_ Malchior and Rorek and she wasn't sure just how much longer she could pretend it was no different from bunking with Cyborg or Beast Boy. "No one's expecting us home yet and I'm sure we can find somewhere suitably desolate. What was the arguing about, then?" she asked, accessing the map to search for a good empty area where no one would notice a pair of dragons flying around. That was going to be a bit tricky, but contrary to popular belief the United States _did_ still have quite a lot of wilderness about the place. The trick was to find somewhere that various US armed forces _didn't_ use as their personal playground. Thank you, Cyborg, for thinking to include such a feature in the search engine.

"Rorek's shy about his dragon shape. I think he was hoping we would just fly off somewhere by ourselves to do this. I had to explain to him that finding empty wilderness in this day and age is not nearly as easy as it use to be." Malchior explained.

"Shy?" Raven repeated, looking over at Rorek. He looked away and shrugged.

"I am…uncomfortable as a dragon. I am not used to it, and part of me still believes I am human." he explained.

"Well if you want to fly properly you'll have to get over it. You're spellfire trick works but your body knows better and it'll never feel right no matter how much you practice." Malchior told his twin.

"You mean you never fully accepted that you were a dragon? Why not? What's so bad about being a dragon?" Raven asked him.

"I was known as a dragon _slayer_, Raven. Malchior wasn't the only dragon I…defeated, you see. There's a sense of guilt there…"

"Never mind that the only dragons you hunted were the ones who deserved it. Humans kill one another all the time, Rorek. Anyone with half a brain who sits down and really _thinks_ is not going to find anything wrong with the idea that a famous dragon-slayer was a dragon himself." Malchior muttered with a sniff.

"Would such a title even be welcome in a land like Nahl, though?" Raven wondered aloud.

"Of course, Raven." Malchior answered. "Dragons had a law as well. The Teachings of Maartuz and the Word of Iiam Bormah both detailed laws and a way of life that we were meant to follow. Those who strayed from the scriptures invariably became dread dragons because much of the scriptures described what were and were not acceptable actions to take when dealing with humans. You could say they were, more or less, what kept the mighty and powerful Dov from succumbing to the Sin of Gods. Dragon slayers _were_ most often human because it was crimes against humans which largely deserved a death sentence. The High Priest himself chose humans he deemed capable of such a title and he would send them to hunt down those Dovah who were guilty of breaking the laws to such a degree that they deserved death." he explained.

"Couldn't he have done all that himself?" Raven asked.

"Certainly, but sending humans to avenge their own was a way of keeping peace between Dov and man despite the actions of the dread dragons." he answered. "This means that all the dragons that Rorel slew, he did so at the behest of the High Priest."

"You met the High Priest?" Raven asked, but Rorek seemed uncomfortable.

"Many times." he muttered, giving Malchior a _look_ that clearly said 'stop talking now'. Raven decided not to press him for details. For some reason this subject seemed to bother him.

And then a thought struck her: Had the High Priest commanded Rorek (Rorel back then) to slay Malchior (Mahkriiod)? Had Malchior been a dread dragon _before_ he and Rorek found one another? She wanted to ask, but she didn't dare. That really _would_ be a touchy subject. But surely the High Priest would never have told Rorel to slay Mahkriiod if he'd known they were silfron.

Or would he?

She decided not to ask any more about this.

"Well, there's no more dragon-slaying in this day and age." Raven told them. That got a snicker from Malchior. "Besides, this place here is well away from just about anything. There aren't even any hermits so you needn't be shy. No one will see you." she said.

'_Except for you.'_

Raven turned from the dragons and put her hands on the steering wheel. She manually took the pod down towards an expanse of desert wasteland. Unlike the popularized pictures, though, this wasn't the sort of desert that just had miles and miles of sand dunes. It was the sort of wasteland that had miles and miles of rock, cacti, weed, uneven terrain, mesas, and even one or two plateaus in the distance. A sandy desert would have been better…but probably not. Any creature the size of Malchior which fell from too great a height was dead no matter what it was going to land on top of.

She busied herself in searching for a good place to set the ship down but it was no use. Part of her wasn't going to stop thinking the thoughts she didn't want to think. _That time it was Malchior's voice._ And she couldn't stop herself from wondering what that meant. Did it mean this would happen with anyone? Or just the twins? Until now it'd only happened with Rorek. What was going on?

She pushed these thoughts away and did her best to try and tell this strange new power that she didn't want it, thanks. She had her own method of mind-reading which required focus, concentration, the right state of mind, and certainly could _not_ happen by _accident_.

She just wouldn't think about it. Maybe if she ignored it for long enough it'd give up and go away.

She landed them in the shadow of a mesa, disrupting lots of desert wildlife in the process, and opened the hatch. The three of them leapt out and Raven used her communicator to seal it up and lock it. "You two have fun. I'm going to meditate. Try not to do too much damage." she told them, pulling up her hood to block the early summer sun.

"What, you're not going to watch?" Malchior asked, earning a 'may you be eaten alive by giant rats' look from his brother.

"Why?" she asked.

Malchior shrugged. "Not everyone gets to see a fully grown dragon flail around in mid-air ineffectually flapping his wings." he answered.

"Not everyone gets to see a dragon period. Let me know when you're ready to leave or eat or something." she said. She left the two to their own devices and flew up the side of the mesa. She managed to find a ledge that was still in the shade and she hovered over it, turning towards the open expanse of the desert and assuming the lotus position.

It was warm. A bit too warm to be wearing a full-body black suit. However, the Monks of Azarath knew quite a few interesting tricks you could do with meditation. One such trick was lowering the body temperature by turning your physical heat into energy and storing it inside the body as power. You didn't get a lot of power like this, of course. But that wasn't the point. The point was to prevent the heat from being a problem and the trick was to treat it like an emotion.

Energy was energy, whether it was light, heat, movement, or magic. Emotional energy was still energy, energy that could be redirected into more practical forms such as strength, stamina, and/or magic. You could turn one energy into another. It wasn't easy, even with magic. You couldn't do it in a state of high stress – not without help – but you _could_ give your body instructions to do it automatically so you needn't meditate every few minutes to avoid dying of heat stroke. And it went the other way, too. You could turn inner power (magical or psychic) into body heat to keep you warm in cold weather. That wasn't to say she'd go out into the snow without some extra insulation – that would be stupid – but she didn't need quite as much padding as others might.

It was very useful. But the monks of Azarath had been big on practical things, especially when it came to her education.

Once her body temperature had been adjusted so the heat wouldn't bother her even _with_ a black bodysuit, she dared open an eye and peeked over at where two dragons were currently sitting on a patch of ground that could only be considered smooth when compared with a gravel path made of boulders. Yeah, there was a reason this place was deserted.

At least, she only _meant_ to peek out of sheer curiosity. And then she found herself staring.

She'd never seen Malchior as a dragon during the day before. Well, there had been the dreamscape, but that didn't exactly count. Not really. And anyway, there'd been light but no real sun to give it. In real sunlight his black scales shone like polished onyx, his horns and spikes seemed to have a vague translucence to them as though they really were made out of some precious black stone, and his violet scales seemed somewhat metallic. He looked _dangerous_. So it was probably a mixed blessing that the whole effect was ruined by the petulant tone he took when he said, "Look, this is how we _all_ learn! It's not my fault you _forgot how to fly_! You're going to have to deal with it!"

Rorek, however, was _beautiful_. His white scales glittered like snow in the brilliant sunlight, his horns and spikes were like misty crystals that caught the light even from this distance, and the pale blue-violet scales under his neck, belly, and wings looked a bit like melting ice. Colored ice, of course, but still ice.

She had to fight to stop staring, especially when the two dragons started wrestling with one another. It was an act that _might_ have seemed like an epic battle worthy of Hollywood if not for the petulant voices.

"Just explain to me the concept!"

"It's not going to work, you pansy! You have to learn for yourself!"

"I am not going to let you drop me from hundreds of feet in the air!"

"All you have to do is miss the ground!"

"That joke was not funny the first time!"

"_Younglings_ manage it!"

"Younglings do not fully understand what will happen to them should their _teacher_ decide not to catch them!"

"Are you saying you don't trust me?"

"Oh why ever would I have any reason not to trust you?"

Hmmm…this was likely to take all day. Oh well, more time to meditate and hope she could avoid another _episode_ like last night.

"Maartuz, I _wish_ you were a youngling! A youngling wouldn't be this much of a hassle!"

"You would make a terrible father."

"No, _I'd_ make an excellent father. _You're_ the one who runs at the sound of a screaming kid."

"It'd be different if it was my child!"

"Sure it would. _Come on_!"

"_Tell me how I'm supposed to do it_!"

"_Figure it out_!"

Hmmm, that reminded her…she wondered if a trip to the monastery would be too far out of their way. Probably. Yeah, she'd just wait until they were back at the tower and then teleport. Hmmm…maybe the twins would like to come with her.

The image of Rorek running away from Timmy Tantrum lingered in her mind even as she began to chant aloud. The thought took several minutes to clear out.

(8)

A/N: In the hugely unlikely chance that there are actually any guys reading this: Yes, it _does_ often feel like you're trapped in your own skin.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Why did you replace your bed with a giant spider?

Sorry I haven't been responding to reviews lately. I've been a bit busy and a bit lazy. Will try to get back on that!


	28. Hitchhiker

A/N: Dreamscape scenes don't count as dreams when it's Raven's own dreamscape so I'm not putting that in bold print. Just so everyone knows…

(O)

_I sketched an image of the Dragonstone with coal and parchment; this was the last item I was to procure. Then, when I turned to leave, I discovered my companion had once more vanished from my sight. I felt suddenly cold and alone. Naturally I had no right to so much as request Madam Crow's company. She had simply accompanied me with no explanations and offering me wise words which proved more valuable than any spell of fire or lightening. But her absence was pain and I longed for companionship. I did not realize until she had gone that she had, perhaps, become the mother I did not have in my mind. During my journey back to King Hrunting's court I dreamed in my waking mind that she was my mother and that she had only yet to tell me for fear of my reaction._

_But while a mother must let her children go, a wife does not leave her husband. It was a wife I needed. To be bonded to another always, to never again face this loneliness, to always know separation would be temporary; this was what I desired. I only hoped I would be alive to find such a woman after facing the High Priest._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs_

(8)

**Chapter 28 – Hitchhiker**

Beings of such a size would never even be able to glide regardless of their wingspan and flight was right out. You'd have to have muscles and tissues made of something far beyond any known material to keep those wings from being ripped off during a fall. And yet Rorek's frantic flapping actually seemed to be slowing him down. Why? Because dragons were _magical_ beings. They had natural powers that allowed them the ability to fly despite the physical impossibilities. Apparently the wings weren't entirely necessary; they just helped you get your mind right with the simple logic of, "I have wings, therefore I must be able to fly". This was very useful for young dragons. Of course, to a certain extent, young dragons _could_ fly with just their wings. Well, they could at least glide.

Rorek was _not_ a young dragon, however, and despite the fact that his wings _didn't_ get torn off by air friction and he _didn't_ turn into a pile of sticky wobbly bits with bones and scales mixed in when Malchior let him hit the ground, he was still having issues.

"You were supposed to catch me…" Rorek ground out, pealing himself off the gravel with a painful moan.

"_You_ were supposed to start flying." Malchior came back, landing in front of him. "Don't worry, I knew you wouldn't die. You are getting a feel for it, though a youngling would have caught on by now." he grumbled.

"And your experience comes from…?"

"Actually spending time in nesting grounds learning to be a parent from parents, as is expected of adolescent dragons. Come on, lets try this again."

"You're going to let me hit the ground again, aren't you?"

"Yep."

"I'm not sure the American slang works with our accent, you know…"

"_Maybe not, but it makes Raven smile so I don't care."_ Malchior informed his brother mentally as he carried his twin up, up, and further up until the shady mesa Raven was meditating on looked very small beneath them. That shut the white dragon up. _"You do realize she's probably not going to be too happy if we have to spend another day out here so __**you**__ can learn to fly."_

Rorek growled low in his very deep throat.

"_Not impressed, dear brother."_ Malchior said, and then he let the dragon go. He didn't bother to hide his amusement at the sight of Rorek's frantic flailing and his brother's fury gave him an idea. He decided to dredge up an image of Rorek's pathetic attempts to fly via swimming in the air, dress it up a bit with bulging eyes and some clown makeup, and then sent it over their telepathic link. Then, as an added bonus, he included an image of Raven coming out of her trance in time to see how ridiculous he looked, though he didn't go so far as to show him an image of her laughing. He decided to have _some_ mercy.

_That_ did it. Malchior wondered why he hadn't thought of this before now because some internal dam broke and now Rorek was swooping up into the air with the rage of a blizzard aiming directly for Malchior.

"**FO**!" he shouted, a stream of super frozen air blasting towards Malchior, who dodged it, laughing.

"_You're going to have to do much better than that!"_ "**YOL**!"

(O)

After an hour or two of dragon fighting (and more than a few demolished plateaus), Raven decided the twins had had enough and demanded that they get a move on. Even so the pod didn't fly much farther before evening began to descend upon them. All three of them had lost track of time and after a few minutes of flying over more barren waste (well, barren in the sense that there wasn't much life apart from the desert-thriving flora) Raven decided to find a place to land the ship for the night. That was the only reason she spotted a black motorcycle gleaming in the orange twilight.

The rider, whom she couldn't quite make out from this distance, was driving down what could only be called a road if you compared it to the area they'd just left (especially _after_ they'd left it) but whoever they were they were _good_. They were navigating the tricky terrain at a speed that would undoubtedly be well against the law on most highways and had yet to die. There were only two people Raven knew who had that kind of skill and one of them was Nightwing. The other…but it couldn't be. What would he be doing way out here? Come to that, what would _anyone_ be doing way out here?

The ship was flying slowly enough and the bike fast enough that, as she watched, the bike was actually passing the ship. Even from here she could sense the desperation, but that required no empathic powers. There was something in the way the person was going at the impossible roadway that told her this was _not_ a joyride. Someone doing this for kicks wouldn't be passing up so many opportunities to drive across certain gaps and ledges in order to get airborne. This person wanted speed. It was only when the bike finally outdistanced the ship by a fair stretch that she realized why and felt stupid for not spotting it earlier. As it was, she was angling the ship down towards the cyclist before his signal flair even exploded.

"What's going on?" Rorek asked as Raven pulled up a camera on the ship to zoom in on the figure.

"There's someone out there and they're signaling us." she answered. The camera got a lock. The sun was setting fast, but the figure standing next to his black bike waving his hands in the air was very distinctive. "_Him_?" she asked aloud. Of course, she _had_ suspected but it was still a surprise to see him.

"Friend of yours?" Malchior asked, peering over Rorek's shoulder.

"More or less." Raven admitted grudgingly. "I can't imagine what he thinks he's doing out here, though. I guess we'll find out soon enough. If he tries to hijack the ship turn him into a popsicle. That suit has way too many fancy gadgets to trust our spellfire against." she said.

"So a bit less a friend than some?" Malchior guessed.

"Merely a precaution." she answered, finding a nearby spot to land. Their guest was already on top of the ship before the hatch was fully open. "Can we help you?" she asked.

"Sunshine!" Red X greeted exuberantly. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you. Who's your boyfriend?"

"Don't have one. What are you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere?" she demanded.

"Would you believe I'm running away from home because my evil stepmother wouldn't let me go to the ball?" he asked with wide eyes that had their work cut out to look innocent considering they were carved into the mask that looked like a _skull_.

"Not a chance." she answered.

"Just an evil mother, then."

"Still not buying it. And anyway, you're too old to be 'running away from home'. The term would be 'striking out on your own'." she stated.

"Tell that to Mummy Dearest. I dare you."

"I don't believe you. You stole something, didn't you?"

"Alright, alright, guilty as charged, Sunshine. But if you knew what was chasing me you'd help me out."

"Really? What's chasing you?"

"I'll tell you everything, if you give me a lift to Jump City." he said.

"Alright, look: I'm willing to fly you to the nearest plot of civilization but you are going to have to give me one hell of a good reason to take you all the way to Jump City." she told him.

"Seconded." Rorek said, leering at Red X.

"Look, I was on my way there anyway. The thing I stole…well, the people I stole it from aren't exactly model citizens themselves. I'm prepared to fork it over to you guys – along with everything I know – in return for some protection."

"Protection? Protection from _what_? That suit's not enough?" Raven demanded.

"It use to be. Not anymore, it seems. Come on, Sunshine! Get me the Tower and I'll sing like a canary. I promise you won't regret it. What I got is serious dirt. _Very_ serious." he told her.

"Why for does this strange person call you 'Sunshine'?" Rorek asked with deep suspicion.

"Because he thinks it's _funny_." Raven answered in a grumble. She pulled out her communicator. "I'm calling Nightwing about this." she stated.

"Hey, sounds good to me."

Nightwing took a few seconds to answer and when he did he looked more than a little flustered and just a bit flushed. "Raven! It's, uh, kind of late. What did you need?" he asked.

Deciding not to point out that it was only 7:00pm (at least where she was), she answered, "We've got a bit of a situation. We were flying through some barren wasteland looking for a place to spend the night when we happened across an old friend." She turned the communicator around so Nightwing could see Red X crouched on the hood of her pod. He waved.

"Hey Kid, long time no see. Miss me?"

"Sure did, but I've been working on my aim." Nightwing answered.

"Classic." the thief snorted.

Raven turned the communicator back around to face her. "He claims he stole something from some other villains and is prepared to trade us the item and all his information in exchange for a ride to Jump City."

"And protection! A very specific kind of protection, but we can talk about that later." X added.

"Protection? From what? What have you gotten yourself into this time?" Nightwing demanded.

"I'll tell you all about it when I get there. And trust me, it's one heck of a story. It even involves an old friend of yours. A sleek creepy guy with a mask."

"That could describe any number of our 'old friends'." Nightwing pointed out. "Including you."

"Has a voice that sounds like it's putting its hand up your shirt."

"_Slade_?-!"

"I like how you both simultaneously figured it out the moment I said that."

"What do you know?-!" Nightwing demanded sharply.

"Who is this 'Slade'?" Rorek asked.

"One of the worst of our 'old friends'." Raven grumbled.

"Right, and I'll tell you everything I know as soon as I'm in Jump City." Red X repeated.

Nightwing's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is he telling the truth?" he asked Raven.

Raven looked up at Red X and leered at him, focusing her senses directly upon him. "Yes." she decided after only a second. "He is."

A second was all it had taken.

Red X was _terrified_. There was a gnawing knot of fear for whatever he was _really_ running from deep down and he had been carrying it for days, maybe even weeks. With that mask on the only things that'd give it away would be tone of voice and body language, but he'd been frightened for long enough that it was a dull throb by now. Besides, his relief at her finding him was evident and it was making him giddy enough for his usual carefree manner to shine through.

"Alright, bring him to Jump. We'll figure out what to do about this when you get here."

(O)

"You know, usually I find magic to be little more than a great damn nuisance, but I have to admit this is pretty sweet. What else can you do to vehicles besides making them freakishly spacious?"

"I'd still like to know why you are in the front seat." Malchior grumbled.

"I'm just that handsome."

"Are you now? Let's see, then!"

"Whoa! Hey! Hands off the mask, Red Eyes!"

"Malchior, don't. Rorek might be able to take your rough handling but most people are breakable and if you crack his skull I _will_ get upset."

"I'm being gentle."

"Yeah, but he's flailing and he almost knocked over my soda."

"Better listen to her, Red Eyes. She's got some serious anger issues under that deceptively calm exterior. I would know." X snickered.

Malchior let go, but reluctantly. Then Rorek pushed himself into the small space behind the passenger chair. "You two know one another quite well then?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh yeah, we go way back. Right Sunshine?" X asked sweetly.

Raven wondered if Red X knew just how deep he was digging his grave by insinuating that he and Raven had had more than a total of five encounters, only one of which had involved about 20 minutes alone together stuck in a magically sealed vault where all attention had been focused on escaping. That was when he'd started calling her 'Sunshine'. Apparently he seemed to think that counted as a date. Or rather, he pretended to think that because he knew how much it irritated her.

"Yeah, you can stop talking now." Raven grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Bet I could shut him up." Malchior growled from the back. "You'd be amazed at how hard it is to talk without a jaw. The tongue just sort of hangs down uselessly for one thing."

"Malchior you surprise me. Simply removing the tongue would be far less of a hassle." Rorek said cheerfully.

"Your new boyfriends need to lighten up, Sunshine." X sniggered.

_I'm not going to rise to this._ Raven decided. No, there was a way to turn this right around. And it might just keep Malchior and Rorek from beating the snot out of Red X. "You're just jealous 'cause my boyfriends could totally beat up your boyfriend." she said.

Malchior busted out laughing as Red X immediately exploded with, "I DO NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND!"

Raven gave Red X her most winning smile, which scared him to death. "Neither do I. Now sit tight and shut up."

The relative silence lasted about half an hour.

"This music's creepy. Let's listen to Lady Gaga."

"I don't have any Lady Gaga." Raven ground out.

"Fine, Evanescence, then. You've GOT to have Evanescence."

"I like Lacuna Coil."

"Never heard of it. You're not a hipster are you? You don't seem the type."

"Stop talking. Now."

"But you're so cute when you're mad."

Raven twitched.

She had intended to find somewhere to land for the night despite how early it actually was but decided, in the current circumstances, that she wanted to put as much distance between them and whatever it was that Red X was afraid of until they knew what they were up against. She wanted to ask him about all that, but he had already made it clear he wasn't giving up any more information until they were safely in Jump City. Well, as safe as you could be in a city that attracted super-powered bad guys like a charged magnet.

He had given her the carrying case of the thing he had stolen. It was big, heavy, tube-shaped, made of titanium wrapped in a vinal tarp material with a strap, and had so many padlocks and combinations on it that it'd probably take Cyborg the better part of a week to crack open. Red X was keeping the codes and the keys to himself, but, as he pointed out, giving her the thing itself proved he was being true to his word. Perhaps he hadn't known about the sub-space pockets on Raven's belt, but he hadn't seemed to mind when it disappeared in her hand. Whatever this was, it wasn't a joke.

If only Red X wasn't treating it like it was. She _knew_ he was scared of something, but perhaps that long-cultivated fear had transformed itself into giddiness now that he was flying high up over the clouds towards the T-tower where nothing short of another space-worthy ship would be able to reach them. So high up Raven was almost tempted to use hyperdrive…but decided against it. It wasn't exactly cloud-friendly and there was too much chance that she might disrupt some vital natural force that'd cause havoc with some area's weather conditions.

Besides, there were some airplanes that could fly high enough to be affected and the last thing she wanted to do was tear up some secret US stealth ship just because she wanted to get to the tower before she succumbed to the temptation of strangling Red X. She was, in fact, keeping her hands firmly on the wheel in order to prevent this from happening.

"Vonis Zu naak rok?" Malchior asked.

"Nid. Mu lotlost rok." Raven answered. "Vopruzah…" she added in a mutter. She liked that swearword. It was a much stronger way of saying 'this sucks' or 'this is bad' or, in this particular case, 'unfortunately'.

"Hey now, that's not fair. What are you two saying?" Red X demanded.

"You really don't want to know what he just asked." Raven told him.

"It is strictly forbidden in any case." Rorek stated, leering at his brother.

"Oh, yes, I'm one of the _good guys_ now. Forgot about that."

"You two seem to have a sort of yin-yang thing going on. What's the story behind that?" Red X asked the twins, twisting around to look at them.

"We're twins." Malchior stated.

"Not normal twins. Identical twins would have the same colors and voices while fraternal twins wouldn't look so similar around the face area." Red X pointed out.

"I don't see how that's our problem."

X snorted his amusement and sat back in the chair, making an attempt to lounge in it even though the passenger chair didn't do any real leaning. "No, guess it isn't."

"Get your feet off the dashboard." Raven ordered.

"Why? There's plenty of space. I'm not in your way or anything."

"I eat off that space. Feet down now."

"Fine, fine. You know you should lighten up a bit, Sunshine. It's not good to be so broody all the time. I bet you'd look really cute if you smiled more often."

"The Lady smiles often enough. Just not around you, apparently." Rorek said, his tone perfectly polite and gentlemanly. This earned him a rare snort of laughter from his brother.

"Ooooh, it's on now. I'll bet I can make her smile." Red X said confidently.

"I'm sure you could too. By jumping out of the ship." Malchior supplied.

"No, then I'll have to dive after him and that'd be a pain. You could duct tape your mouth shut, though." Raven suggested. "That would make me happy."

"It amazes me that you're still single." X mused.

"Yes, it takes such an effort." she said sarcastically.

X leaned over and gave her a shameless once-over. "I believe you. Rawr." he purred. "ACH!" he choked out, slamming back into his seat. This was because one of the twins had grabbed him by the cape and yanked it before Raven had the chance to slap him. _That_ made her smile. She laughed a little, too.

"Oh look, you _did_ make her smile." Malchior said. His tone was dark and more than a little threatening.

"Just settle down, will you? We'll be landing for the night soon enough. Surely you can keep quiet for at least half an hour." Raven grumbled.

"Landing?" Red X sat back up, his tone suddenly _very_ different. "Why? You don't need sunlight when you're flying _this_ high up!" he exclaimed.

Raven looked at him, surprise. Panic. He was starting to panic and the feeling was so strong and sudden that she felt it without meaning to. What was he running from? Did Slade really scare him this much? Or was it because of the thing he'd stolen that he was this scared?

"I know I don't need sunlight to fly. But I need to sleep sometime and I can't fly while I'm sleeping." she told him calmly.

"What about autopilot?"

"Not a good idea to leave that unattended for so many hours."

"Can't one of them do it then?"

"Rorek's not very good with technology and everything Malchior's learned so far is from books, which doesn't take the place of actual experience and in any case Cyborg's technology is very different from anything he's likely come across. It probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"Then _I'll_ fly it while you sleep! I know my way around this stuff and one of them can watch me to make sure I don't try anything." _'Don't do this. Don't stop flying. Don't let them catch me __**please**__!'_

Raven stared at him, trying to ignore the words hanging between them. It wasn't just the twins then…she pushed that aside and focused on the present issue. "You're really scared, aren't you?"

"What? No! No I'm not _scared_! I'm not scared of anything, Sunshine! I just…don't think we should stop. That's all. I want to get back to home sweet Jump City as soon as possible." he told her.

Raven glanced over at the twins, but they were silently looking at X with unreadable eyes. As she watched they glanced at each other and back again. Then Rorek caught Raven looking at them and he gave a small nod while Malchior shrugged.

"Alright, let's switch and I'll teach you the basics." Raven said, unstrapping herself from the seat.

"Sweet!"

(O)

This time Raven decided to take one of the beds since only two of them would be sleeping while Red X was flying the ship. After a few minutes trying to get comfortable she became aware of the scent of the previous occupant. It was a semi-sweet musk with a hint of pine. Rorek? No, wait, Malchior slept in here last. Huh…so they had the same scent? Was that normal for twins? Well, even if it wasn't it was probably normal for silfron. She buried her face in the pillow and inhaled the scent through her nose. It was subtle, but it was also clingy so she kept on smelling it for quite some time, even when she slipped into her dreamscape.

She decided to do some more work on the dreamscape itself. Right now all she had were void-like spaces with invisible walls and ceilings connected to one another. And a bed. Oh she had some decoration here and there to indicate where the next level or area was, but other than that things were very bare. Time to make it more interesting.

It was hard to determine time in the dreamscape, especially when her body fell fully asleep. She wasn't sure why, but she did know that a dreaming mind processed things much faster than the waking mind. Maybe it was because the dreaming mind didn't have to worry about all the billions of little things it needed to keep track of for the body to walk around, take in the world, process said world, and present options and conclusions by pulling things up from memory. In dreams nothing was new. In dreams the mind was, instead, pulling out whatever it already had. It didn't need to gain any input from the sensory apparatuses.

In any case, it _felt _as though she had been working for quite a while before she became aware of Malchior's presence somewhere outside the tower. She snickered to herself. He was going to be in for a few surprises when he came down here looking for her.

He did find her, though. Eventually. Took him a while.

"Very amusing, Raven." he grumbled. "_Why_ did you replace your bed with a giant spider, exactly?"

"Hey, at least I didn't make it move." she chuckled.

"No, it just blinked at me. Spiders do not blink, by the way. What is all this?" he asked, curiously. "It rather looks like a church of some sort. But without the pews."

"It's part of the Citadel of Azar, the largest building on Azarath. This is the cathedral." she answered. "It had various purposes and was used for different things over the years, but during most days it was used by monks for gatherings and they were required to levitate if they wished to sit."

"So you have actually been to this Azarath yourself?"

"I'm _from_ Azarath." she specified. Hadn't she told him that? She couldn't remember. Oh well, he knew now. "I was trained as a monk, though my power was such that I had to learn sorcery as well in order to control it. In truth there are both monks and sorcerers on Azarath. You just don't hear too much about the magic-users because the monks are generally more…potent."

"Potent how?"

"They use psychic power rather than spells and turn some things that might be considered magic into natural abilities. Of course, plenty of people here on earth do the same thing, but the Monks of Azarath took it to a whole new level. They were the ones who defeated Trigon the first time he reemerged, after all. Oh I'm sure the sorcerers helped – psychic power can't do everything after all. But I'm thinking it's rather difficult for magic-users to deal with psychics."

"After a certain level, yes, it is." Malchior mused. "So…you were sent to earth to deal with the Church of Blood?" Malchior asked her.

"No, I told you: They believed the cult to be gone for good. I left because…well…it's complicated. In the end I think it was simply because I felt strongly that I was needed on Earth even though I didn't quite know why. I'd always been drawn to anything to do with Earth back when I lived on Azarath. History, literature, art, geography…even the way they built their roads fascinated me. Besides…after my mentor died I didn't really feel as though I fit in. I was…different. Azar was the only one who understood me. Everyone else was just…_polite_."

"Ah." he murmured. He reached out and brushed a lock of stray hair from her face. "Yes…_polite_. Because, for whatever reason, no one is going to actually come out and say that they don't really want you around." he mused. "What is the expression? 'Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt'?"

"What, even before you became the dread dragon?" she asked him.

"Look at me, Raven." he said, spreading his arms wide for her. "Snow-white skin, black hair, red eyes; do I not look like a nightmare in flesh? A, what you might call, 'demon'? Even where pale skin is considered attractive, my coloring has never been the sort that put people at their ease. Rorek is the pretty one; the _attractive_ one. He is the fresh snow that children might go out and play in. I am the forest fire that panics the wildlife and all who see it. _I_ am the frightening one. And no one likes being near something they fear, do they?"

"I don't fear you." Raven murmured.

He touched her cheek. "No," he murmured, "You don't…and you never did, did you? Not even when you saw the dragon for the first time."

_He's going to kiss me._ she realized in a sudden panic. She couldn't let him. If she did then…then there'd be no going back. But if she turned away…she didn't want him to think she was rejecting him entirely…just that the romantic option really _wasn't_ an option.

So she reached out and hugged him the way she had back in the Jump City T-Tower right after his and Rorek's first fight, her face pressed against his shoulder and turned away so he couldn't reach it.

"They were afraid of me." she whispered.

"I do not fear you." he murmured. "But I do fear _for_ you." And, to her surprise, he pulled her back so he could look at her. "Raven…back in the cellar with Sister Fear," uh oh… "You destroyed the Glang." whew! Wait, what?

"So did you." she pointed out.

"The one which caught the Batman's leg and covered it is what I am speaking of. If you were simply blasting them apart like the rest of us then you would not have been able to save Batman from it. He really would have had to destroy his leg to survive." He reached over and touched the stone on her forehead. "I use to fear that, perhaps, you were not the only one who had gained such an increase in power; that there might be others out there whom the gods were attempting to contact. But now I'm not so sure. You don't simply have _more_ power; it's different, odd. Why you, Raven?" he asked, his voice pained.

"I don't know…" she admitted, looking down, her hands at her sides. "I'm…scared…" she finally got out, biting her lower lip.

Malchior took her hands in his, "Morgaine Le Fay is not the only one who knows how to hone such powers." he told her. "When we return to the tower and that Red X person's issues have been sorted through, Rorek and I will begin training you."

She gave him a weak smile and nodded. "Thank you."

"But of course, Fair Maiden," Malchior said, stepping back so he could bow to her. "Tis the least we could do. Which reminds me; Rorek's been annoying me lately. He's been moping about the fact that you're letting me into your dreamscape and not him. I told him it was because he hadn't _asked_ but he's too much of a coward to raise the subject himself."

Raven stared at him in astonishment. "You're asking me to let Rorek into my dreamscape? Are you feeling alright?"

"Well when you put it like that I think I might be dying. What's wrong with me?-!" he exclaimed, putting a hand to his forehead in a theatrical gesture. Raven laughed.

"I'll think about it. I have no problem with Rorek in my dreamscape; I just don't really want this place becoming another of your battlegrounds." she told him.

"You don't have to let him in." Malchior said innocently.

"Yeah, I could just kick you out instead so he doesn't feel left out anymore."

"Now hang on a minute! I'm the one who taught you how to make a dreamscape in the first place!" he exclaimed defensively.

"Maybe I'll just keep you two separated, then." she mused. "Or just make this place so big you can never find each other."

"You're certainly off to a good start. If only you _could_ draw the things in your head." Malchior said, looking up at the stained glass windows. "This place is beautiful." he murmured.

"Yes…it was…"

(O)

"I can_not_ believe you don't have Evanescence."

"Must have left it in my other playlist."

"Linkin Park, then!"

"Apparently not."

"Metallica?"

"Nope."

"Marilyn Manson."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Alright, can we access Pandora from this thing?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"My ship, my music."

"Oh come on, Sunshine! Have a heart!"

"You know, you surprise me. I would have pegged you as a screamo fan."

"Linkin Park is as screamo as I get, I'm afraid."

"Not all my music is screamo, okay? There's some singing in there."

"Yeah, but it's kinda weird having a girl sing to such hard metal."

"Evanescence."

"Alright, alright, my bad. But at least she sings about normal stuff that I can understand."

Hmmm…Tristania versus Evanescence…Raven decided she wasn't even going to go there. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and good music was in the ear of same. Everyone was different.

"I happen to like this music myself."

"Yeah, do you really like it, Red Eyes? Or are you just saying that because your girlfriend likes it?"

"Yes."

"That wasn't exactly a yes/no question, there."

"I'm sorry, I forgot the part where I was supposed to care."

Raven sighed and leaned back in her seat. Having X fly through the night more than recovered the time they had spent with Rorek's flight lessons so with any luck they'd be back before dark. They _would_ be back before dark, she realized. They were, more or less, following the sun weren't they? The clock automatically adjusted itself when they flew into a new time zone, which was why she was starting to feel tired even though it was only 3. Of course, some of that had to do with thinking up different ways to entertain Red X after he'd woken up so he wouldn't default to his new favorite pastime of shamelessly flirting with any nearby female of moderately decent looks.

Raven already had to go through the tired explanation of 'that one magical night' Red X kept referring to if only to stop both Malchior and Rorek from deciding that Maartuz would forgive them that one particular crime against humanity in these special circumstances.

"We were stuck in a vault for twenty minutes and it had a magical lock on it that took us that long to figure out and it wasn't even night, you idiot. It was midday." she'd groused at him.

"Oh, well, maybe I can make it up to you. How's Friday night sound?"

_Sounds like a death sentence._ "Can't do Friday. I'll be washing my hair."

"Ah, haha, I see what you did there."

Yeah…

"Hey, let's play a game to pass the time." Red X suggested.

"Great idea. Let's play the quiet game."

"I second this." Malchior said.

"What? No!"

"I third it." Rorek came in.

"You've been outvoted." Raven informed Red X.

He slumped into his chair, muttered something under his breath that Raven didn't catch, and was suddenly yanked out of his seat through the slight space available between the back of the passenger chair and the roof of the pod by two sets of hands.

"You are not allowed to eat him!" Raven shouted.

"Fine, fine. We ran out of mustard anyway." came Malchior's voice.

"Whoa! Hey! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry! What are you doing?-! Why can't I move?-!"

"It's called _magic_. And you're going into the closet for a while. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure we got rid of all the snakes. Have fun."

"What—snakes? HEY!" A door slammed. Malchior leapt into the passenger seat soon after, looking quite pleased with himself.

"We had snakes in the closet?" Raven asked, trying not to laugh.

"No, but he doesn't know that does he?"

"Kind of cruel…but he was asking for it, I'll admit."

"Not as cruel as what Rorek wanted to do to him. _He_ wanted to sit him down and give him a five-hour lecture on how to be a _gentleman_. Which we'd have all had to suffer through."

Strange, Raven hadn't been aware of any muttering going on between the two.

Hmmm…

She remembered Rorek's odd silence after she'd snapped at Malchior. Somehow he'd known she was upset about something but the two of them hadn't actually spoken to each other…had they?

Hmmm…

Raven looked over at Malchior, then at Rorek leaning on the back of his seat and watching the sky out of the pod's glass roof.

"Are you two communicating telepathically?" she asked suspiciously.

Both eyes went wide. They looked at her, and then at each other.

"I think the word here is, 'busted'." Rorek put forward.

"That it is." Malchior mused. "I don't suppose you could keep that information to yourself? We were hoping – okay, _I_ was hoping – to pull a few pranks on the Titans before we told you."

"On one condition."

"What is that?"

"You do Beast Boy first."

"Done." Malchior snickered.

(8)

A/N: Afraid this weekend is going to be pretty busy for me. Not with work, but other RL stuff. So no Squares tomorrow, sorry about that. -_- But! I do have a good idea for the next chapter so hopefully it'll be worth the wait.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Daanik Malchior, can't you take a hint?

I'm not entirely sure what prank I want the twins to pull on Beast Boy. Just having them say the same thing at the same time for an entire conversation doesn't seem funny or random enough. Any suggestions would be welcome :D.


	29. Human Enough

A/N: It has come to my attention that my sense of geography is a bit warped so I'd like to make a formal apology for that. The US somehow seemed to have either stretched out to become a lot bigger or my version of the DCverse has random desert wastelands that wander around in areas they've no right to be ("I knew I shoulda taken a left turn at Albuquerque!"). Sorry about that! ^_^'

(8)

_The High Priest's castle was not easy to reach for either humans or dragons and the journey to it was the most trying I had faced thus far. Strange things lived in the surrounding woodland. The trees moved, the path twisted, stone statues in curious gardens of marble structures spoke warnings and riddles while serpents with jeweled eyes watched me from high in the eaves. I saw one serpent swallowing its own tail. Was this an omen or a warning?_

_My journey took days and my nights were fraught with nightmares. Yet somehow I knew that I would not be harmed as I slept. Nothing attempted an overtly hostile strike upon me even while awake. The dangers were in the trek itself with its obstacles and riddles that all my magic could not assist me through. These were trials for the mind alone. And I passed them._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 29 – Human Enough**

"Friend Malchior! You are free at last! We must celebrate this joyous occasion!" Starfire cried, giving Malchior her traditional bone-crushing hug.

"Dear sweet Pahmonah!" Malchior gasped. "And I thought _I_ was strong for my size! You, however, are not a magical being. Where do you keep it?" he asked, prying Starfire's arms from around him. She didn't seem to care, though.

"Nightwing and I have made ready your room! You shall be right next to your brother! Is that not glorious?"

"Not the exact words I'd use, but accurate nonetheless."

"Hm?"

"Where's Red X?" Nightwing asked Raven.

"He's been paralyzed and shoved into the closet." Raven admitted.

"Yes, he was being most…impolite." Rorek explained.

"Doesn't surprise me. Well, let's get him out here. Cyborg's already back and Beast Man should be here pretty soon." Nightwing told them.

"Did it get too hectic without us?" Raven asked.

"We had a few close calls, but nothing we couldn't handle. The Great Can't has another message for you, by the way. He insisted I tell you that you need to find your teeth." Nightwing told her.

"Her _teeth_?" Rorek asked, his brow furrowed.

Nightwing shrugged. "I'm just relaying the message. I told him I was pretty sure she knew where her teeth were but he insisted nonetheless."

"Alright…" Raven brought her fingers to her mouth and ran them over her jaw. "Found them." she said.

Rorek's eyes were still frowning. "Yes…but what about your baby teeth?" he asked.

"Baby teeth? What would I need my baby teeth for?"

"I do not know…do you know where they are?" he asked her.

"On Azarath…which was destroyed about three years ago. You're not taking The Great Can't seriously, are you?" she asked him.

"His magic is strange, Raven. Perhaps it might be a good idea to look more closely into this 'Tia' later on. It may be nothing, but at this point I would rather not discount anything." Rorek told her.

"I agree. After that incident at your concert I'd rather be safe than sorry. Let's go get Red X."

(O)

"That was hardly first class transportation there, Sunshine."

"Next time get an airline ticket."

"Fine, fine, point made."

"Well, X? What's this all about?" Nightwing asked. Raven had passed him the thing, whatever it was, that Red X had stolen. Container and all. It was a 2-foot-long cylinder with what was roughly a 10-inch diameter and it was pretty heavy.

"First, about that protection," Red X began.

"You're safe enough in the T-Tower, man. Trust me." Cyborg told him.

"I'm not knocking it, but I've got something specific in mind." He handed Nightwing something that looked like a newspaper cut-out. A small one. Nightwing's eyes widened when he spotted it.

"Um…what's this?" he asked, alarmed.

"It's called The Mortix, Kid. And it's like the sorcerous royal scepter or something. Rumor has it that if you've got this book it means you're the greatest when it comes to all the hocus-pocus stuff. I don't know if that means that only the best can actually get it, or if getting it means you become the best because of whatever crazy stuff it's got, but someone in Jump City has it now and I'm pretty sure you can find out who that is. I'm going to tell you everything anyway, but if you want what's in that tube then you have to convince whoever's got this book to let me hide out with them until this whole thing blows over. Got it?"

Cyborg reached over and picked up the cylinder. He examined it. "Give me a week, I could get this open."

"Don't bet on it." Red X said, wagging his finger at Cyborg. "It's not just techy stuff keeping that thing closed. There's magic on it too. _Serious_ magic. Really annoyingly serious magic. And I've heard tell that it is damn hard to mix magic and technology so it'd take a lot more than just a week, trust me."

"We're talking about this book, aren't we?" Raven asked, summoning Rorek's grimoire from her room and waving it at Red X. His eyes went wide.

"Good god, Sunshine! I knew you were good but I didn't think you were _that_ good!" he exclaimed.

"You still want to hang out here?" she questioned.

"I object to this idea." Malchior stated.

"Seconded." Rorek came in.

"Thirded." Beast Boy said.

"I don't know, we could shove him into the basement and toss some food down there every once and a while." Cyborg mused.

"How deep is this basement, exactly?" Red X asked.

"It's pretty far below sea level." Raven answered.

"Sweet! Give me cable, some video games, internet, and plenty of soda and I'll be perfectly happy." he told them.

The Titans all stared at him.

"Alright," Nightwing began, "Start talking. What are you running from?"

"Prepare yourself, Kid. This is like nothing you've ever dealt with before." Red X told him. "I don't expect any of you to say 'yes' to this question, but I'll start with it anyway. Have any of you heard of something called the Church of Blood?"

There was a dead silence.

Red X looked around at the many different expressions focused directly on him. Then suddenly he found himself being hoisted into the air by the front of his suit. "What do _you_ know about the Church of Blood?" Malchior snarled.

"I'm…going to take that as a 'yes' then, shall I?" X asked with a hard swallow. "Well, this makes things a bit quicker. How, exactly, do you all know about them? And what do you know?"

"I was born on Azarath and trained by the monks. They knew all about the Church of Blood…or at least they did. They thought the cult had died out a few hundred years ago." Raven told him.

"Back around the 16th century, right? When all those witch hunts were going on? Yeah, turns out the evil Christian church wasn't as evil as the media likes to portray them, huh?"

"What are you talking about?" Rorek asked as Malchior slowly set Red X down.

"Yeah, I'm kind of lost too…" Cyborg admitted.

"The old witch hunting, the one that happened way back then? The churches were actually hunting down members of the cult with the help of the Azarathian monks. Only they didn't get everyone…and they sort of killed a lot of people who weren't part of the cult at all landing them that bad reputation. Guess that's what happens when you get over-paranoid and/or power-crazy."

"Blood Magic is no joke, serrah." Rorek stated.

"Believe me, _I know_. Anyway, several members managed to fake their own deaths pretty convincingly and they all laid low for a really long time, pretending to be good Christian men and women until the monks believed they were all dead." X explained. "I think they developed some drug or other that hid them from whatever the Azarathian Monks used to track them down."

"How come you know all of this?" Raven asked.

"Remember last time we parted ways? Well sometime after that the cult caught up with me and managed to convince me to join them by demonstrating what they'd do to me if I didn't agree to come along quietly. It was an extremely vivid demonstration. So I got all initiated and did the whole 'praise Trigon, lord of all' bit as convincingly as I could manage, became well-educated in the histories, and then well-and-truly-_terrified_ when they tried to get me into the whole Blood Magic deal. I might not be all into the big spiritual mumbo-jumbo stuff, but even I can tell that stuff is _just not right_. I'm a thief. I admit that. But I draw the line _somewhere_ and vampires have always creeped me the hell out. So I swiped their greatest and most powerful treasure, see exhibit 'the cylinder', and got outta there at the first real chance I found. That took about a year. So that's how I know good and well what kind of crap the cult has going on." he explained.

Raven stared at him. Something wasn't making sense here. Why would the cult target Red X specifically like that? Why force him to join up, tell him all of this, and even try to teach him Blood Magic? Sister Fear had been the only cultist out of that small group of hers who knew Blood Magic. This did not make sense. At all. He was hiding something.

"So…any chance you can get word to Azarath and let them know we've got a situation?" Red X asked Raven hopefully.

"I'm afraid Azarath was destroyed three years ago." she told him.

"Ooooooh hell…" X said, his eyes wide.

"Yep. We're on our own." she said.

"So does this mean you know where their hideout is?" Nightwing asked.

"I know where _a_ hideout is, they have many and you can bet they won't be in that one anymore. Not after I escaped. They're not stupid, unfortunately. Well, Mother Mayhem certainly isn't. And Sister Fear, her Second, might have some serious issues up in here, but she's a quick study and not someone you want to underestimate." he explained.

"Sister Fear is dead." Malchior informed him calmly.

Red X stared at him. "How dead?" he asked.

"Very, _very_ dead." Malchior stated. "Do you think the Church of Blood are the first organized group to actively practice Blood Magic? They are not. Rorek and I know Blood Magic all too well. Even if she had crafted for herself a homunculus body – and she was not advanced enough for such a feat, I am sure – she would still be dead."

"A homunculus?" Raven asked.

"It is one of the failures of alchemy, as you must be aware. No mortal can create life, and the gods…should not have tried. But with Blood Magic one can craft an exact replica of one's body and put one's consciousness into that body. This spare body can then go out into the world and leave the original somewhere safe. Then, if the spare is killed, the consciousness will simply return to the original body." Rorek explained. "It is extremely dangerous, however. Each time the spare is killed it still takes a bit of the person with it. We have seen the end result of this method and it was truly a horrific sight. All things have their price. Better to die whole and all at once than piece by piece like that. You really do not want me to go into detail."

"No…I don't think I do." Raven mused.

"Seconded." Red X quipped. "So Sister Fear is really gone? You killed her?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh no. It was not me." Malchior answered in a dark tone. "She was using _Deep_ Magics; that is what killed her."

"She…did it wrong?"

"That, I think, is the wrong sort of question. Deep Magics are not like modern magics. There's no real right or wrong way to use them…but there is a difference between knowing what you are doing and _not_. She did not. She paid the price for it."

Red X swallowed hard. "Good to know. Any chance the same will happen to Mother Mayhem?" he asked.

"We can only hope, but it is not a sure thing. Now, what more do you know about the cult?" Malchior asked.

"Hang on a minute!" Nightwing suddenly burst out. "You said Slade was involved in this! Is he part of the cult?-!" he demanded.

"Not any more he's not." Red X answered. "Now he's doing everything in his power to stop them. I bet you were wondering why he hasn't been around lately, huh?"

"_Slade_? Slade is _helping us_?" Cyborg exclaimed.

"Stop them doing what? What are they planning?" Nightwing asked.

"I have no idea. But whatever it is they're aiming for, they can't do it without that." Red X told them, pointing to the cylinder.

"And what is inside it?" Rorek asked.

"Something really powerful, apparently. To be honest, I'm just as curious as you guys. I haven't seen inside it either. Could be some working dark matter battery, but probably it's something mystic and unnatural." X answered. "So, are we agreed I get to stay in your deepest, most secure basement, then? Full of all manner of technological and magical protections?" he asked.

"I think we can agree to that." Malchior put forward.

"Yes…I think so too…" Nightwing said.

The others murmured and nodded their ascent.

"Then hand it over and I'll open it up." Red X said.

"Can it wait until tomorrow? I'm not sure I can handle any more shocking revelations with jetlag creeping up on me." Raven said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She was curious as hell about what was in the tube, but fatigue was making her feel a bit woozy and she knew that if there was something shocking and dramatic in that tube she would not have the energy to deal with it. Probably it was just some overpowered crystal or something. Could you store Blood Magic power in a stone? She imagined a big crystal full of that sickeningly textured spellfire and thought she'd throw up then and there.

"I'm with Rae. I could use some rest myself." Cyborg ventured.

"Yes, and if that happens to be a Rotthurst then the sight of it will do no good for anyone's stomach." Rorek said. A statement which didn't really help calm Raven's imagination, or her stomach for that matter.

"I'll take it down to the vault for the time being." Nightwing said. "You get to bed, Raven. You don't look so good. Cyborg, do you think we could get that special cell fixed up for Red X for the time being?" he asked.

"No problem. We just need to find another bed…do we have any more spare beds? I mean, those things don't grow on trees."

"I we have mattresses but no more of the legs." Starfire volunteered. "And most of the mattresses have developed strange white growths…"

Raven stood up to go to bed but swayed a little. Rorek was at her side immediately, a hand on her back to steady her. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"The mental image of a crystal with that textured Blood Magic spellfire in it is _not_ doing wonders for my stomach, it really isn't." she admitted.

Rorek chuckled. "No, I can't imagine it would. A Rotthurst does not look quite like that…but just as well we are waiting on opening the cylinder." he said, helping her towards the stairs.

"It looks worse, doesn't it?"

"I am not going to go into detail."

"Thanks."

She had just enough time to vaguely wonder why Malchior was letting his brother help her towards the stairs when her stomach gave a throb that meant something was, indeed, coming up, and then she was running for the bathroom. Ugh. Jetlag + too much excitement + not enough sleep + that time of the month = sick. Wonderful.

She tried to shoo Rorek away but he ignored her. He knelt beside her and held her hair out of the way, drawing it back with surprisingly cool fingers. After she was done he produced a damp rag for her. It was cool too. In fact it was icy cold. It felt unbelievably good against her face.

"You are ill." he informed her.

"You sound surprised."

"I suppose I am somewhat. We rather think of you as being a bit…more than human."

"Well I'm human enough to get sick, obviously."

"Obviously." Rorek chuckled. He gathered her up in his arms and lifted her effortlessly into the air before she was entirely aware of what he was doing.

"Um…I _can_ walk…" she said, _knowing_ that she was blushing and hating herself for it. Also she was hating herself for how much she didn't want him to put her down.

"Yes I am sure," he told her, gracefully navigating the door. "But you will recover much more swiftly if you do not have to."

It was only a few stairs and a hallway, but that argument didn't want to leave her mouth. Rorek's arms weren't the most comfortable in the world with his vambraces and the chest plate, but his scent was so very prominent and a thick lock of hair had fallen over his shoulder. Her cheek brushed it lightly but that was enough to tell her how soft it was.

He carried her silently to her room, which he opened telekinetically, and over towards her bed. He didn't help her remove her cloak or boots or belt or anything, but he did take them from her and hung them up where she directed. Then he helped her arrange her bed into some order, chuckling a little.

"Why do you have so many pillows and blankets?" he asked.

"Sometimes I have a hard time getting to sleep." she answered. "I guess I don't really need all of them. When I can't sleep I can't sleep." she mused, pushing some of the pillows off the side.

"I remember an old recipe for broth and herbs that Madam Crow once gave me when I was ill. Perhaps I might find the same ingredients for it." he said, placing a re-cooled rag over her forehead. "I'll let the others know you're sick and someone will check on you later."

"Thanks…" she murmured, still staring up at him as her mind began to grow dark with the growing fatigue and fever.

'_If you truly wish to thank me then allow me to take care of you without putting up your customary fight.'_ she heard, but she was too tired to think.

(O)

**A figure stood before her. She could not make out any details; only that it was there and it seemed to be trying to reach out to her, but its hand was stopped by an invisible wall. She regarded it dispassionately. The world was quiet, though. No random whispers of strange words. Did that mean they'd lost power? Or the opposite? This was far more vivid than the other dreams had been.**

"**You can't actually touch me, can you?" she asked the figure.**

"**No." a voice murmured. It was deep and it spoke quietly but it was _big_. As though it were coming from an enormous throat rather than the human-sized man standing in front of her. "There are rules." he – at least, she was pretty sure it was a 'he' – told her.**

"**You're a god, aren't you?" she asked.**

"**Yes." he answered. "I need your help."**

"**No." she said. "You think what you were has been forgotten but it hasn't. I know what you were, I know what you are. I know that all the surviving gods are the ones who were trapped in Tartarus, and that they were trapped for good reason. I'm not helping you and I'm not going to listen to a word you say."**

**There was silence for a moment, and then the figure faded away leaving her in a void of nothing that swiftly became the strange dreams of her fevered mind.**

(O)

She felt better when she woke up. She was sticky with sweat and she felt achy, but aside from that she was definitely good enough for the broth that had been set next to her bed. It smelled better than it tasted, though, and it tasted very strange. She drank it anyway since something was better than nothing, took a trip to the bathroom (relieving her bladder and not her stomach, fortunately), and then settled back into bed. This time, though, she slipped into her dreamscape before going to sleep, hoping Malchior hadn't noticed her lapse.

She woke back up much later to find her dishes had been removed, got up, and went to take a shower. Thank goodness it'd been a short fever. She still felt a bit achy but that would go away soon enough. At least the fever had taken care of her jetlag. She wondered if dragons experienced jetlag. Probably not. Neither Malchior nor Rorek seemed at all bothered.

The hot water did the trick. She felt fresh and clear after a good scrub. What time was it?

6:00am. When had they gotten back, then? Stupid jetlag. She felt like it should be well past noon. Oh well. Meditating so early in the morning was nice and peaceful. She decided to head for the living room and wait for the others to wake up.

Cyborg was the first to join her two hours later. "Hey, feeling better?" he greeted.

"Much. Apparently it was only one of those overnight fevers, thank goodness." she answered.

"Well, take it easy anyway. We'll be fixing up X's space today. Are you absolutely sure we can trust him?" he asked.

"I know that he's scared out of his wits, he just isn't showing it where any of you normal people can see." she answered. "I think we can trust him up to this point. But he's hiding something. It might be a small thing but we should still be on our guard." she explained.

"Gotcha. So, want some waffles?"

"Ugh…not today. I think I'll just stick with tea today…" she mused, flying over to the kitchen to make some up.

"Rorek usually does that…" Cyborg pointed out.

"Rorek is usually awake before I am." Raven answered.

"I think he enjoys it."

"I am not about to go wake him up just so he can make the tea."

"So he can make _your_ tea, you mean. He doesn't actually drink it himself."

He was grinning. He thought it was _funny_. Raven wasn't amused, though. In fact she was pretty sure that if she hadn't just meditated she would have thrown her tea in Cyborg's face and then started crying. Instead she just glared at him and said, in a very calm voice, "Cyborg, it's a full moon tomorrow. Drop this subject, _now_."

Cyborg's grin vanished. "Yes ma'am." he said swiftly.

(O)

Red X's new home was far below the storage basement and was in an area that needed quite a lot of Cyborg's special touch before it became an official part of the tower with the benefit of a security system. It also took some doing to attach it to the water system so he could have a bathroom and a small kitchenette. The rest of the Titans helped out so they could get it done faster, though both Rorek and Malchior groused continuously about Raven being there as well. They were constantly taking anything she was carrying right out of her arms and trying to get her to sit down and rest despite all her assurances that she was fine. Finally Cyborg gave her the task of programming the com system, which meant she was sitting down at a screen doing nothing more onerous than typing and clicking around with a mouse. That appeased them, though it wasn't enough to keep her occupied for more than half an hour. So she got X's computer hooked up to the network with several hundred encrypted limitations in case he decided he wanted to poke around in their personal files. Cyborg would add his own safeguards and they'd be much more secure and well-written, naturally, but at least she felt like she was contributing to the effort.

The entire chamber was covered with a special kind of frame that Cyborg came up with. It involved three plates, two of them were stainless steel while the third, the middle plate, was pure iron. The steel would keep the iron from oxidizing and would also mean that there'd be enough iron in the walls that no amount of Blood Magic would be able to get through without actually opening the door – which had lots of locks on it and was, of course, made of the same steel-iron-steel plating.

The effort took them the better part of two days. What surprised Raven the most was just how willing Red X was to help and how little he complained about the work, if he complained at all. That, more than anything else, told them just how serious he was about this. And so when the time came she, Rorek, and Malchior flitted through the pages of Rorek's grimoire in order to find a powerful protection spell that the three of them cast together.

Finally it was done. And they were all tired. Particularly since Jump City hadn't been very cooperative and the sirens had gone off twice. Once in the middle of a particularly tricky part that they'd had to do all over again, and once during the middle of the night.

Raven was starting to feel grouchy. She was in pain (though there were pills she could take for that), she wasn't meditating as much as she really should for this, and in the past few weeks she hadn't been getting nearly as much 'me time' as she was use to. The pressure of it all was taking its toll. She hadn't been getting _any_ alone time except in her dreams and even then she had Malchior slipping into her dreamscape to tell her goodnight. Well, alright, she sort of liked that part, but she sort of wanted a break from it every now and then. It seemed like she had a constant shadow. Two shadows, really. If they weren't both hovering near her then it was either one or the other. Strange that they hadn't been fighting as much as usual lately. In fact, they'd stopped fighting almost entirely (at least on the outside) ever since Red X showed up. Part of her (a brutally honest part) was saying that they had probably decided to band together against this outside threat, which was ridiculous. Red X didn't have any actual interest in her. The fact that he hadn't been flirting quite so much with Starfire probably had something to do with some _talk_ or other that Nightwing must have had with him. But it was kind of nice that they weren't bickering as much anymore.

At least for the time being.

She announced that she was turning in early for the night, though that was a bit of a lie. It was more an excuse to get away than anything else.

But, of course, one of the twins just _had_ to follow her. This time it was Malchior.

"Would you like a back massage to help you get to sleep?" he asked innocently.

"No, thank you." she answered, trying very hard not to let the, 'may you be eaten alive by giant rats' tone of her voice leek through.

"How about just the shoulders, then? You seem quite tense." he said, putting a hand on one such shoulder.

"I'm fine." she said, pushing the hand off. She was almost at her door. Could she make it all the way through before she said something she'd regret? Probably not.

"Would you like to work a bit more on your Draconic? We haven't—"

"DAANIK MALCHIOR, CAN'T YOU TAKE A HINT?-!" she shouted, slamming the door in his face.

And now the tears were coming. She _hated_ this! Why was this happening now? Used to be she could go for months with no more than an increased amount of twitching eyebrows and that was it. Of all the times…but it was _because_ of what was going on that she was having a harder time dealing with it, wasn't it?

Didn't he understand that she needed her space? Did he think that if they took their eyes off her too long she's jump into Red X's arms or something? Didn't he know her at _all_?-! He use to understand…or maybe he'd only pretended to. It wasn't as though she could shut him up in a closet anymore.

And suddenly she wished he were in the book again. It'd been so much easier, so much more comfortable, and so much less…charged when he was a paper man. He'd been…hers. Not her property, though technically he had been. But it was…he'd been…it was just different now. And she missed him. And then she felt selfish for it and her emotions were in complete turmoil because she just didn't know what she wanted and what she _did_ know she wanted she knew she couldn't have because of all the complications.

It was time to talk to someone about this. Tonight. But only after she'd calmed down.

(O)

She knew she was rambling, she knew she was getting too worked up, and she knew she was carrying on what had to be the last drama anyone would have expected from her, but Nightwing just sat there and listened. A few times he seemed like he wanted to interrupt and say something but he didn't. He just let her talk until she was through. Already she felt better even though nothing had actually been resolved. It was just a relief to get all of this out in the open. Well, open to Nightwing anyway. And that was where it would stop, she knew. He didn't tell your secrets to anyone unless A. you asked him to, or B. he had a very, _very_ good reason for it and the end result was the better option.

But she needed more than just to talk. She needed support. She needed someone to be accountable to, someone to tell her that she was making the right decision and hold her to it. She was sure Nightwing would agree that she needed distance from the twins. She was sure he would help. Sure that, somehow, he would make this easier, make it hurt less the way he always seemed able to do. He'd been the one that gave her the strength she needed to defeat Trigon, after all. He would give her strength now.

She wasn't expecting what came next.

He was quiet for a long time, thinking. He seemed troubled, and there was a grim set to his lips that hinted at something like…anger. Was he angry? What was he thinking? What was he angry at?

Eventually, finally, he spoke aloud. "Raven…I think…there's something you need to know."

Raven stared at him. His tone was very odd. What was going on? "What is it?" she pressed.

He shifted uncomfortably. "You know Rorek and I have become pretty good friends. Well…he told me some things. Things that he and Malchior obviously haven't explained for some reason. Probably it just never came up, maybe it's just not something they like to talk about. It took me quite some time to get it out of him myself, and only because I got this feeling that it was there from some of the other things he mentioned. I shouldn't be the one to tell you. I mean, he told me all of this in strict confidence. I don't feel good about this but…you have a right to know."

(O)

Raven turned the water up to a near-scolding temperature but even then she barely felt it. She was barely feeling anything right now and she had decided to keep it that way. She had no idea what she was feeling or what to think. She knew that part of her was angry, but angry at _what_ exactly? At them? At herself? All the clues had been there, she just hadn't…

But how could someone just _guess_ at something like this? How was it suppose to work? It _didn't_ work – not well anyway, and not the way this sort of thing was suppose to.

Perhaps this was what Rorek really meant when he said silfron were cursed. It must be easier for the females, though. At least there's some social precedent born of biological logic that might allow it. But this? How did you deal with _this_?

Suddenly the trouble with Vergonda made a whole lot more sense. In fact, a lot of things made a whole lot more sense. Why hadn't they _said_ something, though? Did they think she'd just _catch on_? How could she? What did she know about silfron?

She washed, scrubbing her skin until it was red raw and then scrubbing some more to extend her shower. Eventually she turned off the water, removed all but the barest minimum of the moisture clinging to her skin and hair, and then slipped into a fresh costume. Once out of her bathroom she tossed the old costume down the laundry chute. Then she curled up in her bed and pulled out her current book. She couldn't focus on it, though. Her brain kept going off in different directions so that she kept having to read the same paragraph several times over.

Finally she gave up and curled into her covers and pillows.

Malchior was in her dreamscape. Obviously he really _couldn't_ take a hint.

She waited impatiently for him to leave, wondering if kicking him out would be enough of a hint. She didn't want to, but if she went to sleep without using her dreamscape then he'd likely find out this time and get scared. She wasn't afraid…but perhaps she should be. That god who'd spoken to her…she hadn't expected him to just fade like that. She'd have expected him to try and give her some excuse, some reason, say something to make her trust him. That he didn't do so was…strange. Was that the trick, then? Or was it simply that they really were running out of power to contact her? Perhaps they were using it all trying to get through Malchior's circle.

It was no use. He wasn't leaving. Maybe if she just didn't sleep…no, she needed to sleep. Now more than ever. She needed her brain to just _stop_.

Too bad this wasn't Europe. She looked to be around 18 and she could buy alcohol at that age in most countries on the other side of the Atlantic. Here, though, there was no way any store would believe that she was, in fact, well over 21 without an ID. As a super hero without a secret identity she didn't exactly _have_ an ID, especially considering she'd been born and raised in another dimension altogether.

On the other hand, this _was_ Jump City…would the liquor store accept an Azarathean scholar certification card? Ha! Probably, but only if the characters were in English – which they weren't. Oh well.

She waited, staring up at the ceiling. She thought about braiding her hair to pass the time but decided against it. Azar, she was tired. But she did _not_ want to face Malchior right now. She needed to sleep first, and then she needed to meditate, and then she needed to sit down and try to sort some things out in her own head.

He _wasn't leaving_. What was worse, when she looked she found him in her new bedroom. He was just sitting there, waiting apparently.

He really, _really_ couldn't take a hint, could he? She didn't want to kick him out without some sort of explanation, but if she went in there like this she'd start yelling at him and she had no idea what she would say. So she took a deep breath and closed herself up. She hadn't done this in well over a year. At least, she hadn't gone _this_ far; down to _this_ level. But she had to. She really did not know what she'd say if she didn't, but she knew she'd regret it.

So she appeared directly in the bedroom and looked at Malchior through blank eyes. He shot to his feet when he saw her, his own eyes angry and his stance that of one prepared to start shouting…but then he froze. "You really can't take a hint, can you?" she asked in a voice of dead calm. "Fine, I'll spell it out for you. I want. To be. Alone."

"Raven I…just…just tell me what's wrong!" he exclaimed. He looked…scared. That was a bad sign; Malchior didn't handle fear very well. She knew she should feel bad, but if he'd just give her some space they wouldn't be having this problem in the first place.

"Nothing. I just want to be alone. Alright?" she stated calmly.

"It's _not_ nothing!" he shouted, fear turning into anger as he advanced on her. "Something is wrong! Why won't you tell me?-! Why are you shutting me out like this?-!" he demanded.

"I want. To be. Alone." she repeated. "Is a little solitude in my own head too much to ask, now?" she questioned.

"Stop dodging the issue!" he roared.

"I'm not. That _is_ the issue."

"No, there's something else! _Talk_ to me! Tell me what's wrong!"

"Malchior, get out of my dreamscape."

"Despite previous evidence to the contrary, Sweet Raven, I am not a tame little pet trained to obey your every command." Malchior growled. His voice was dangerous, his eyes flashing with simmering fires of banked rage, and his stance was suddenly intimidating.

But she just stared up at him dispassionately. Probably she should be worried, probably she should be angry, but she wasn't. She didn't feel anything right now. "If you're trying to threaten me, consider your bluff called." she stated. "This is my dreamscape. I do not have to let you stay. I could simply revoke your permission and kick you out."

He leaned down so that their faces were inches apart and she could see the detailed texture of his blood-red eyes. There were tiny flecks of orange and magenta in there. Even, she saw, the tiniest bit of violet around the tipped oval of his pupil. "Consider your own bluff called, my dear." he sneered softly. He cupped her chin roughly in one ash-white hand. "If it were so easy for you to push me away you would have done it by now. But you can't do it, can you? You're _mine_, Sweet Raven. And you're going to stop holding back from me. Aren't you?"

She _should_ be worried. Part of her knew this. But there was another part of her that was rising up, gaining strength, and breaking out of the careful cage she'd put herself in.

Rage.

Her eyes glowed red, her lips drew back to bear her teeth, and she _snarled_.

It was not a human sound, and she was pretty sure it wasn't the sort of snarl you'd get from a dragon either. Oh no, this was the part of her that she'd kept hidden, even from the other Titans. This was the part of her she didn't want anyone to know about; the part that got out when she was pushed too far. And boy, was he pushing it.

She tried to pull back, to stop it, but her heart wasn't in the effort. In all honesty she'd stopped caring. Go ahead, let him see what she was holding back. Let him see why she needed to be alone. Maybe this would be enough of a hint for him.

Besides, the demon wanted to play.

(8)

A/N: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-! Gosh but it's gonna be mighty hard to wait an entire five days for the next chapter, isn't it? (Troll Face) It's gonna be a good one, though!

Wow, Malchior's being kind of a jerk, isn't he? (Does anyone else experience the feeling that sometimes the characters themselves are taking over the story and all you're really doing is trying to sort of guide stuff along a certain path as best you can?) And he was doing so well, too! I mean, at least when he's a jerk to Rorek it's _funny_.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Sorry, can't find anything funny enough to put here. Oh well!

Virtual cookies to anyone who's already guessed the twins' big secret! I'm pretty sure it's obvious now but I'm gonna wait until the next chapter to spell it out completely. See you all Friday! :D And I will definitely try to get back on that responding-to-reviews thing…


	30. The Other

A/N: This chapter has been edited about five times, which is far more editing than my chapters usually get. I hope it's long enough and good enough to suffice.

(8)

_When finally I arrived in the castle I was struck by both its size and the realization that every available surface of wall was covered with writing. As I read the bits of this writing that I could see I came to understand that this castle stood as the whole of the dragon's scripture. Their Bible, as it were. I wondered what I might find if I had time to read it all. Would it bear the same teachings as were recorded in the human Bibles? Or would it reveal their lie; that Iiam Bormah was not, as they so claimed, an epithet for the Christian God?_

_But this was not why I was here. I was here to end my emerald nightmares. One way or another._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 30 – The Other**

_Wow, that's new,_ was the numb, fragment of thought that found its way into Malchior's consciousness just before he was suddenly sailing through the air and slamming head-first into a wooden vanity desk. The desk broke, showering him in splinters and shards of broken glass. He wasn't allowed enough time to get his bearings before he was grabbed by the leg and thrown through a glass window that he was sure hadn't been there before.

Rather than being thrown out of the tower, however, he slammed down on top of a floating island of dark gray stone in a void that was empty save for a strange red-black cloud-like texture of whatever distance it had and other such floating islands of stone. This island was pretty big. That was lucky because it meant he had plenty of space to roll out of the way before the black-clad figure came hurtling down after him, feet-first. It was lucky he had; her landing made a small crater in the stone.

Malchior scrambled to his feet and stared. It wasn't that her eyes were red. He'd seen them glow red before. And, alright, so the fact that there were four of them was a bit…disturbing. But he could deal with that. It was a bit unusual but probably just one of those things. And, under different circumstances, he'd have found that rather demonic growl she'd given him incredibly arousing. Right now, however, every instinct he had was telling him, in big bold capital letters, that he was in deep, _deep_ trouble.

She rose from her crouched landing smoothly and fluidly, the slow grace reminding him inexorably of a serpent as she turned to him. **"Even after all this time you still think I'm a little girl who can be cowed by threatening words and mocking pet names, do you?"** a voice asked. It wasn't Raven's voice…only it was. But there were layers to it; hissing, shrieking, snarling, guttural layers that were not all entirely in sync, creating a mild echo effect.

Very. Deep. Trouble. If only he'd listen.

"Perhaps it'd do you some good to be a bit cowed." he snarled at her. "You're always so composed, so collected, so in control; sometimes I wish you _were_ a scared little girl. At least then you wouldn't be so bloody-minded!"

"**Why not just come out and say it, hmm?"** she purred, taking one languid step after another towards him.

_This is dangerous. Back up now. Something's not right. She's not herself!_

_You stay out of this!_

"Say what, pray tell?" She was right in front of him now, not two feet away and giving him a smile that was also a sneer. It made him livid.

"**You want me put in my place."** she said, her voice deathly quiet. **"Well, what is my place? Why don't you tell me?"**

_Don't. Answer._

But he was angry, frustrated, hurting, terrified, and confused. Old certainties, wrong certainties, were being called up from the dark, primal places deep down and the one defense he had against them he was ignoring. He grabbed her by both arms. "Your _place_ is with _me_. You're _mine_." he snarled.

She didn't struggle, she didn't move at all. Instead she did something worse. She laughed. **"I'm **_**yours**_**?"** she barked out. **"You're mine, you mean."** she chuckled. She lifted a hand and put a finger to his chest. **"I don't need you, Malchior. But you certainly need me, don't you? Little broken man."** she cooed.

He struck her – or rather, he drew back his hand and brought it around in the attempt. But her hand flashed out and snatched his wrist before it made contact. She looked amused.

"**Sorry, big boy, But I'm not the kind of girl you can just smack around."** She dug her nails into his vambrace and it melted away like putty. Then, with a sudden jerking twist, she broke the bone.

Pain, sharp and hot, laced up his arm and clouded his mind as though his arm had _really_ been broken. That shouldn't happen. But the pain was there, and it was so real! He pulled back with a shout, falling off the edge of the floating island of stone. He tried to fly, but if anything happened at all it was only that he was falling slowly. As though gravity suddenly had a very minor influence upon him.

Raven, or whatever she'd become, laughed above him, leaning over the edge of the island. **"My dreamscape, my rules!"** she told him, and then she leapt from the island and dove down after him.

He tried to blast her away with spellfire but nothing came out of his hand. She was right, this _was_ her world. The only way to avoid her was to leave it but…no. He was not going to just _run away_ like that! It would be tantamount to admitting he was scared of her. He was not.

_You should be._

She struck him hard in the chest and he slammed down onto the next island with more speed than he had previously been falling. It knocked the wind out of him but he shot up and out of the way before she could hit him a second time. The stone island cracked and caved around her fist.

"**This is why I wanted to be alone, Malchior."** she said in an almost sing-song voice as she stood up. Strands of hair fell over her face making her look wild and feral. **"But you just wouldn't let it go. Well, here's what's wrong. Here's what I've been hiding. Do you like it?"** she asked in a sickeningly chipper voice. She spread her hands out and twirled as though showing off a new dress.

"I'd like it better if you were strapped down." he growled. His arm ached with pain but at least it had stopped acting as though it were broken and was useable.

"**Ha! I'll bet you'd really enjoy that, wouldn't you? But I think we both know which of us would be more likely to wear the straps. Don't you agree, my broken man?"**

He struck but she was too fast and too strong. Before he even realized which way she'd moved he was tumbling back into the void. He managed to grab hold of a floating rock and scramble on top of it. He had only a second to try and figure out where she was before she hit him from behind and sent him sprawling suddenly on what appeared to be a long, wide, twisting path of some sort. He rolled and got to his feet just as she landed. Blinded with fury, he lunged for her and a sudden, sharp pain caught him in the chest. He looked down and saw that her hand had gone through his gold-stained armor as though it were no more substantial than butter. Nails like knives were spearing his flesh. His armor melted away.

Pain. There was so much pain. And…screams—NO! He grabbed her shoulders but he might as well have tried to force a statue to bend to his will. He felt her pull her nails out, and then she struck him so he went flying down the path. He tried to get back up but he was suddenly so weak. His arms were refusing to do more than the smallest bit of movement. He looked down and saw red blood seeping out of the holes her nails made.

Blood? In a dreamscape? Not good. Not good at all.

Raven grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up. **"What? Was that it? Nothing more than that? How boring. You didn't last very long."** He gritted his teeth and glared at her. **"Awww, did that hurt your pride, darling? I'm so sorry. Here, let me give you an easier hurt to deal with."** She struck him across the face. It felt like he'd been hit by an iron sledgehammer. His jaw broke and the pain exploded in his mind behind his eyes. Then she tore off his scarf and grabbed him painfully by the chin. **"Such pretty scars you have. I do like to look at them."**

Self-preservation finally won over pride in the firework display of his pain. He began to pull himself out of the dreamscape.

At least, he tried to.

Raven chuckled. **"Looks like you taught me a bit more than you meant to yet again, hm?"**

"Raven…" he rasped out. It hurt so much to talk. This wasn't good. This wasn't good _at all_. But he was having so much trouble thinking clearly. Things, strange things, familiar things, were starting to come around the cracking edges of his consciousness. He was fighting them back as much as he could. "You're…not right." he rasped out.

"**Nope!"** she agreed cheerfully. **"I'm not right at all, am I? Or did you mean that I'm not **_**acting**_** right? Not being **_**myself**_**? Well I have news for you: This **_**is**_** myself. This is the self I keep locked away, chained up, and barricaded behind a lifetime's strict conditioning. Do you know I was only 3 when I started receiving this **_**conditioning**_**?"** She let him drop so she could grab him by the back of the collar instead. She then started to drag him down the path which lead to some strange archway through which was some blurred mess of red, white, and yellow color. **"I was barely forming words before the people around me started telling me I was evil and had to learn not to be. Did you want to know that? I didn't get any time to play when I was little. I didn't have any friends my own age. Everyone I knew was much older than me and they were always telling me how I was doing it wrong. They were afraid that if I was allowed to get bored I'd get **_**ideas**_**; that if I was allowed to play I'd get into mischief and the mischief would turn into something darker like, oh, say, destroying the world, perhaps? It was a miracle Azar put a stop to it, but by that time it was too late. I wasn't a child anymore. I wasn't allowed. I had to learn it sometime after, didn't I? And you know what? It was because everyone, even my own mother, didn't believe I was really human. Azar was the first one who did. Want to know why?"** she asked cheerfully.

"Raven…where are you taking me?" he asked softly. He could hear shouts and screams in his head but he was trying not to. He knew they weren't real.

"**I'm just showing you what you wanted to see. You were so curious about my father some time ago, right? Well guess what?-! Remember when I mentioned Scath? You know? That inter-dimensional demon the Church of Blood worships? That would be him!"** she said.

"Oh…" Malchior murmured weakly. He was slipping. And the worst part was how aware he was that it was happening.

"**Oh? Oh? That's all you have to say is 'oh'? I've been agonizing for so long over telling you this and all you can give me is a blank 'oh'? How anticlimactic."**

"Raven…please…"

She looked down at him. **"Oh you poor thing. Has my little broken man run out of fight?"** she cooed. **"Next time you should listen to me when I tell you I need to be alone."** she growled, dropping him some few yards away from the arch. She knelt down next to him and touched his cheek with a finger, tracing the toned scars across the side of his face. **"You know, Rorek's the nice one. So polite and gentlemanly. He certainly knows how to make a girl feel special and he's oh-so gorgeous. You, on the other hand, you're the bad boy. You're the dangerous one; the intimidating one that sensible girls steer clear of. So why is it I want to come to you with all my wants and worries but he's the one I want to sleep with? That doesn't make much sense if you think about it. It should be the other way around, shouldn't it?"** She chuckled, drawing a finger across his forehead. **"You really are broken, aren't you? Oh you act all big and strong and manly but deep down you're in shards. And I'm the only thing keeping you together, aren't I? Only I'm not doing such a good job of that right now, am I?"**

"Raven, please…I'm sorry…"

"**Why should I care, Malchior? You don't seem to be caring much for my feelings, lately."** she asked in a low voice.

Malchior forced himself to look at her. She wasn't smiling anymore. Her lips were set in a grim line and her eyes were narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"**I didn't know that silfron bond both to one individual. I didn't know that the link goes so deep they must both love the same person and vise-versa. I thought it was me, you know. I couldn't decide between the two of you, I honestly couldn't. I felt evil and selfish for it, too. The last thing I wanted to do was to come between you two. I believed that it was just as well I couldn't decide because it meant any hard feelings over my decision wouldn't create another fissure between you. Sometimes it kept me up at night. But all the while it turns out that I was never _meant_ to choose; that I either love both of you or neither of you; it's all or nothing. **

"**It **_**hurt**_**, you know****. It hurt to keep the both of you at arms' length, staying friends despite how much and how deeply I wanted more. And neither of you were making it any easier with the roses and the food and all the small things the both of you did without comment that I had to pretend I didn't notice. Would it have been so hard for one of you to tell me up front how things were? To mention it in some innocent conversation? Or did you think I'd just **_**guess**_**? What with the way you two kept **_**fighting**_** over me and everything. Is that normal? Or is it an unfortunate side-effect of being two people as well as one?"** she snarled.

"Raven…" He reached out for her. He knew he was slipping, and the voice was only making it worse.

_You've lost her. You should have told her everything when you had the chance. What right do you have to expect her to forgive you now?_

Darkness descended. Not a darkness of sleep, but a darkness of the mind. There were screams. There were voices. There were memories so sharp. Too sharp. A smiling _woman_ with a small _knife_. A world of _snow_ with a _snow_-covered castle _and_ shining people _with_ hearts _that_ were _even_ colder. A _dying_, bleeding _flame_. His _only_ _life_. Himself. _Blood on_ the _stone_. _Silver_ shackles. _Screams. Laughter. A mirror. Skin. Pain. Screams. His screams, and his screams. "Please, Mother, don't hurt him! Stop! I beg you, stop!" Cold. Cold. Cold…and then his screams. "How can you do this to your own child? Monster! Putrid __**thing**__!" So cold…_

_The last thing he heard with any clarity was her voice, her real voice, but that could just as easily be another part of his twisting world._

"MALCHIOR!"

(O)

She couldn't cry, not now. She had to focus. She had a life's experience learning to keep herself in check. Even then it was so hard.

Back when she'd first learned to do this and her mind wasn't use to its extra senses, it told her a story of what was going on so she could understand it. The story had been that she was putting together a jigsaw puzzle with pieces that were all the same color. Later on it became a bit easier and she likened the experience to a shattered mirror that she had to piece back together. Then she started thinking of it as some three-dimensional object like a bowel or a statue that she was repairing. Finally she didn't need any more analogies, and that was just as well.

It worked like this: you weren't allowed to actually look at the pieces; you had to get a feel for the shape of them and try to match them to the other shapes. But no matter how sure you were that you'd matched shape to shape, you were not allowed to seal the cracks. There was too much chance that you'd been wrong and got the shapes mixed up. That was alright so long as you didn't seal them together or remove any cracks. Often the pieces would start to arrange themselves; switch what needed to be switched and such-like. So what you did was put a sort of glaze over it to keep everything together for the time being. You did not seal anything. You did not take away the cracks. Not you. That was up to the person themselves. They had to want to be healed and then allow themselves to heal. It was _very_ important.

She was at the 'glazing' stage when he became aware and spoke to her.

"Raven?"

"Sssh, Malchior. I need to concentrate." she murmured soothingly.

"You're you again?" he asked.

Knowing what he meant, she replied, "Yes, I'm me. I really need you to wait a bit longer." she told him.

"What do you have there? Some sort of…puzzle?"

"Yes, a puzzle." she lied.

It was impossible to say what this place was and wasn't. It was a dream, but it wasn't, not a proper dream. It was real, but only for a given value of reality. You could say that there was a room. She was sitting next to him, and at the same time he was there in her hands.

The part of him that he was currently thinking of as his body reached out to touch her. "Am I dead? You're not wearing any clothes."

She decided not to speculate as to what part of her he thought he was touching. "No, you're not dead. But clothes are a bit difficult here. So is any kind of physical detail. This isn't a dreamscape."

"What is it, then?"

"Very hard to explain. Please, Malchior, I need to concentrate."

"On what? You're always paying attention to something else."

"I need to fix the thing I broke." which, as it just so happened, was his mind.

"Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't. Just a bit longer, alright?"

"Alright." he sighed. She caught a glimpse of his perception. In her mind they were simply close. She had done this enough that her mind didn't need to translate any of this into something it could understand with the physical senses. But in his mind he had her in his lap, his arms around her waist, and something was in her hands. She turned her attention back to what she was doing.

When she felt the glaze was strong enough she placed it carefully back where it belonged, or let it go, or simply let the metaphor go as she turned her attention from it. There were very few words that could describe what was actually going on here. She began to pull away.

"Wait! Stay!" Malchior gasped out.

"I can't." she told him. "It would be dangerous."

"Raven! I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "The things I said, the way I acted…I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't leave me!"

"I'm sorry too." she told him gently. "I'm not leaving you, but I need to go. Rest now."

She opened her eyes and, slowly, feeling as though she were moving through water, she drew her hands away from Malchior's head.

"How did you do that?" Rorek whispered, amazed.

Raven had to take a moment to answer.

When she ran to Malchior's room she had found Rorek already there and fighting to subdue the black-haired dragon. Raven had no idea what Malchior had been doing that required Rorek to bind him down with so many spells and she hadn't asked. Various articles of broken furniture had given her a bit of a clue, though. So instead she knelt down, instructed Rorek to be quiet, pulled Malchior's head into her lap, and pressed her hands against his temples. The last thing she noticed before beginning was Malchior going suddenly limp and ceasing all his struggles. That had been lucky. The patients didn't always yield so willingly and sometimes the worst part of this was the struggle at the beginning.

It was at once easier and more dangerous to do this with someone you cared for and vice-versa. They were more likely to trust you, but, at the same time, also just as likely to try and keep you there. Malchior hadn't fought her coming in, but he was fighting her departure. You could say it was something like being in a tank of water with many clinging hands that you had to calmly and slowly remove one at a time or else risk leaving some bit of you behind in the water. Malchior still had hold of some of her, but she was patient and calm and had his metaphorical fingers out of her mind in a few seconds' time. It wasn't so unusual for patients you didn't know, too. Sometimes part of the individual in question recognized that you were helping them and they didn't want to let you go, even if they fought you the entire way going in. She'd never done this to someone so desperately clinging to her, though. She probably should have kept her eyes closed until she was all the way out. She pulled herself free without too much more trouble.

Then she blinked, took a few deep breaths, and made an effort to recall Rorek's question. "Sorry…what?" she asked blearily.

"You…brought him back. How did you do that? I did not know magic was capable of such a feat." Rorek said.

"I'm not sure just how much magic is involved." she admitted. "It's more psychic, I think. In this world most doctors use medicines to fix the physical aspect of the brain which, in turn, adjusts the mind itself accordingly. But on Azarath the monks do it the other way around. We adjust the mind and then the brain takes care of itself in conjunction." She felt out of breath, like she'd been exercising for a few hours.

Malchior was fast asleep, his head still on her lap. He wasn't wearing his scarf, or his armor. That might have worried her a bit. She'd taken those things off in the dreamscape. Did that mean they were still there somehow? But she'd spotted the items in question laying next to his bed. Apparently he could waltz into a dreamscape wearing whatever he wanted.

Raven looked up at Rorek, feeling at once numb and teetering on the edge of tears. "This has happened before, hasn't it?"

He looked down and nodded. "Yes…the first time was after…after this." He pulled down his scarf to indicate his own scars. "Which happened sometime after we…found each other. I do not remember it with any great detail. All I remember clearly is finding him in his old castle. Another dragon had tried to take it over and I remember finding bits and pieces of him or her all over the place as we searched for Malchior."

"'We'?"

"Madam Crow and I. She was the one who explained to us what we were. Anyway, when we found him he was covered with self-inflicted wounds. It was as though the pain inside were so great he was trying to dig it out with his claws. Madam Crow took away the pain and we nursed him back to health. Afterwards I think he only vaguely remembered the madness, but not much of it. It never got to that level a second time…not until now. But it seemed as though the madness was a lurking monster that had never truly left. Sometimes it would flash back; strange things would happen to him and his thinking. But always it would subside, leaving him confused and, often, angry. A few times I tried to tell him, but Malchior is proud. He refuses to admit that some of his behaviors and actions were not performed in his right mind. And even then he would say that there is always a choice. But how can one make a proper choice when your own mind is not truly under your own control?"

"Do you think he was a bit mad when he left you?" Raven asked softly.

"I do not know. He may have been, and then again he may have been thinking perfectly clearly. He would not have been mad to want to leave." Rorek told her softly.

Raven looked down, tears burning her eyes as she stared into Malchior's peaceful face. His head was still in her lap and she was gripping the shoulders of his black bodysuit, which, she noticed, had a turtle neck of its own with a single gold button on the side. She forced herself to release his clothing so she could bring her arms up under his shoulders and pick him up. "We should get him to bed."

Rorek nodded and, wordlessly, picked up his brother's legs.

So close, with his head on her shoulder, Malchior's scent was strong in her nose. But she was too numb to feel anything as she carried her half of him awkwardly to the bed the Titans had provided for him. That, at least, was unscathed. She laid him down with Rorek's help, tucked a pillow under his head, and managed to get the blankets out from under him so they could be used to cover him. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to slip into the blankets and curl up against him. But that moment left as soon as it had come.

"I'm going to stay with him." Rorek told her softly. Raven nodded. That was probably a good idea. _Someone_ needed to stay with him and it couldn't be her. Not now.

She turned away and headed for the door, but Rorek stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Raven, wait. I…I am sorry."

She wanted to ask, 'what for?', but was pretty sure she knew, and wasn't too sure she was willing to forgive either of them just yet. "I need to be alone." she said softly.

Rorek let her go immediately and she left the room without another word.

She locked her door when she got back to her room and went straight for the mirror on her vanity desk. When she had slipped into Nevermore the first one she saw was the one she was aiming for. She was wearing a red cloak here. There hadn't been a cloak at all in the dreamscape.

"You tried to kill him." she said by way of greeting.

The other her just smirked. **"You mean **_**you**_** tried to kill him. It was his own fault. He ought to know by now that we're not the sort of girl he can push around in that oh-so-manly way, treating us like a thing to be owned. A **_**thing**_**. Correct me if I'm wrong but don't they call that the Sin of Gods? What a hypocritical prick."**

"He _doesn't_ think like that and I _don't_ want him dead!" Raven exclaimed.

The Other snorted. **"No, because you're soft. You **_**love him**_** and you'll **_**forgive him**_**, but you know how that sort of thing always goes. Husbands beating their wives again and again while the wives tell themselves little lies; 'he's just in a bad place right now', or 'he loves me, he really does, it's my fault, really'. But really the truth is that they're scared of being alone and don't know how to support themselves so a bad husband is better than no husband at all."**

"Malchior _isn't like that_!"

"**He isn't **_**now**_**. But that's how it starts, isn't it? They're so sweet and loving at the beginning and then as soon as they have what they want they turn sour. Best to kill men like that. You can't fix them. Well, **_**you**_** could,"** the other smirked. **"**_**You**_** could have gone deeper, couldn't you? Found that part that was broken so bad it makes wife-beating acceptable and just adjusted it so he'll be a better person. Oh, but that's **_**not allowed**_** is it? You're not allowed to **_**change**_** people like that. It's got to be up to **_**them**_** to change, doesn't it? Even though you know they don't. They never do."**

"Malchior changed." Raven insisted. "But _you_ pushed him. You were hurting him! How did you expect him to react? He wasn't going to sit back and take your crap any more than I'm willing to take his!"

"**He pushed us first, remember? He should have left us alone. _You_ should have simply thrown him out of the dreamscape. But _oh no_, you didn't want to hurt him too much by forcing him out, did you? You are so weak."**

"I'm human." Raven stated coldly.

The Other smirked at her, **"So am I, Raven. So very, very human, and you know that, don't you? I'm the part of you that is vulnerable to the Sin of Gods. The part of you that you have been conditioned against becoming since you were little more than a baby, robbing you of your childhood."**

"I'm _glad_!" Raven spat out. "Hard as it was, the alternative would have been worse!"

"**Are they still going to want you after this, I wonder?"** The Other taunted. **"They know what you are now, and you almost killed Malchior; you know that, and I'm sure they know it too. But maybe that's just as well. After all that trouble you've been having, do **_**you**_** really want **_**them**_**? I mean, that's **_**two boyfriends**_**. You don't even know what to do with **_**one**_** and you've heard plenty of horror stories about having even that much. What new problems would you have to deal with having **_**two**_**?"** She laughed. **"And you know what's funny? That's probably why they were afraid to tell you in the first place! Thinking you'd reject them right then and there for the very thing that has been tormenting them so much in their unnaturally long lives. Maybe you should just leave them alone, let them find someone who'd be better at dealing with their unique situation. Anyone who's managed more than one date with Billy Numerous might be a good place to start."**

Raven glared at The Other, but couldn't think of anything to say. She didn't have to, though. The Other chuckled.

"**Don't like that idea much, though, do you? Admit it, you're thinking 'mine' just like Malchior was. Is that why you're so forgiving, then? Because you know, deep down, that you're just as bad? You know, most people have the opposite reaction. Most people are all the more judgmental for it. Seems backwards but so much about human nature is like that, isn't it? So what's wrong with you?"**

"I do not want to be like you." Raven whispered.

"**But I am you, Raven. I'm part of what and who you are."** The Other murmured.

"Yes, but I do not have to accept you. I can choose to turn away from you. I can choose to lock you away and put you behind me." she said.

"**I'll always be here, though. You can't kill me, you can't destroy me. For as long as you live I'll be here and you will be fighting me every year, every month, every week, every day. Always."**

"Yes…you really are human, aren't you?" Raven mused. She raised a hand. It wasn't necessary, but gestures like this often helped focus the mind on the task at hand even if the action itself wasn't entirely physical. She sent The Other back into its cage and locked it away.

Once upon a time The Other had been her rage. And, in a way, it still was. Or rather, it was most intrinsically linked with her rage and thus it maintained the red cloak. But, after her powers had separated from her emotions, The Other had separated as well. It became something…different, something _else_. Raven didn't quite understand what it was. The closest she had found when she looked through her small library had been the brief description of a Shadow Twin in the Book of Azar. Shadow Twins weren't necessarily evil, though. They were just…_Other_.

This was the first time The Other had managed to take over like that. Unless, of course, you counted some of those moments before Trigon where Raven went off the deep end. Like that time she'd nearly killed Dr. Light. But The Other had been Rage then.

She wondered if Malchior and Rorek would know something about this. She was pretty sure that The Other was the part of her which was 'daddy's little girl'. She was the demon; the thing Raven had been trained her whole life to suppress and deny.

And yet…

She was human too, wasn't she? It wasn't just Raven who had a darkness deep down whispering terrible things to the conscious mind, was it? No…people didn't need to be half demon to be evil, did they? And that begged the question: Was Trigon evil because of what he was or because he had simply become that way? Once upon a time she had described him as the incarnation of all evil, but that had been a childish exaggeration. Evil was not in _what_ you were but in _who_ you were. Raven understood that now.

She was distracting herself, wasn't she? She was thinking up all this philosophy to forestall the time when she'd have to think of her actual present situation. Sure it was nice to get some of this sorted out in her head, but it wasn't helping her.

Maybe it would be a good idea to get some sleep first.

(O)

Rorek stirred from his doze just as Malchior was coming 'round. His brother's thoughts were confused and foggy at the moment, but they were sharpening as awareness grew and certain recent memories were presenting themselves for inspection and all the associated emotions they would bring.

What passed between them was a conversation that happened in seconds. They didn't trade words so much as feelings, images, and emotions. Raven turning into that…entity – the things she'd told them – told Malchior – things that Rorek had been aware of in his slumber but not exactly with the capacity to really think about any of it until after the fact. Malchior had been bleeding in the dreamscape. That wasn't supposed to be possible – though they knew it was and it was bad news. Raven – or rather, the thing she had become – had come very close to killing Malchior…and thus killing the both of them. And Malchior had been in no fit state to defend himself, if that had even been possible. Rorek was unable to even form enough thought for the idea of trying to stop her. Had she been aware of that? Her other self, her real self, had. Malchior's memory went no further than his decent into madness, but Rorek remembered an anguished scream of fear, shouting Malchior's name, and thrusting him desperately out of her dreamscape. His mind returned to its physical home, alive but in pieces. Pieces she had put back together.

Malchior remembered the feel of her in his mind and the memory made them both shiver. That sensation had been so very intimate. Rorek received a faint, dream-like impression of Raven sitting next to Malchior, completely naked but for her long violet hair. She'd been plucking pieces of some sort of puzzle out of the air and piecing them back together in front of her while Malchior watched with only just enough thought to record the experience. The pieces had moved about under her fingers, though, and she often moved some of the pieces around because they weren't in the right places. When the thing had been whole Malchior's thoughts seemed to stabilize and solidify. He'd been himself again. He felt a bit strange, but even as they communicated he could feel things sort of adjusting themselves in his head so that they were more comfortable. What was more, she'd done something to the puzzle. It was like…like she'd put it in a bowl of some sort so that, even if some of the pieces fell out, they wouldn't fall far and would go right back to where they were supposed to be. This seemed to be happening now. Pieces were leaving, and then coming back, putting themselves in different places.

It was nice to have two minds to think about these things. One mind could work on the describing while the other worked on the understanding. Raven had put her broken man back together, but she hadn't healed him because somehow she knew some of the pieces were in the wrong places and he had to find the right places before she could.

That wasn't what was going on; not really. But it was a helpful description of something that could not otherwise be put into words.

And then she'd left. She really did need to be alone.

"_Well, we knew she was hiding something and we both wanted to know what it was. We found out."_ Rorek thought.

"_Now I __**really**__ want to know who and what this 'Trigon' is. She mentioned him back when she was telling me about the cult the first time but I have no clue." _Malchior thought.

"_Does it matter what he is?"_

"_Well it matters to her, obviously. Why would she keep it a secret if it didn't?"_

"_What about us?"_

"_You even have to ask?"_

"_She will."_

"_Rorek, our mother was so much a bitch that she achieved a legendary status of bitch and is mentioned on several dragon stones as the enemy of Maartuz. Compared to that we've got no right being bothered by the fact that someone's father is a super-powered demon from some other dimension."_

"_As good a reasoning as any, though I don't suppose you'd let me censor it a bit, would you?"_

"_Mmm, no. I like my explanation. It's accurate."_

"_Very well…"_ Rorek sighed aloud.

And then Rorek insisted that they go back farther than the dreamscape. Malchior didn't want to. He knew what Rorek was probing for and he didn't want to admit to it. But the white-haired silfron refused to let up.

"_Malchior, please. Just tell me why. What set you off? Why did you accost her like that?"_ Rorek demanded.

Finally he gave in and showed Rorek the turmoil that had been building up for the past few days.

Ever since he'd been released from the book, Raven had been steadily drawing away from him. They didn't get to talk like they used to. They didn't have that private time together anymore. They weren't as close as they use to be. And part of him blamed Rorek, though he knew he shouldn't. He'd wanted so badly to have some private time with her and when he thought he might finally have the chance to get it she'd pushed him away. So he'd waited for her in her dreamscape; the one place he had with her where they were truly alone. But when she finally appeared…

She'd shut herself off from him and told him to leave. In his eyes that was as good as a rejection and he'd snapped. He refused to accept it, he _wouldn't_ accept it! She was his! How dare she shut him out like this!

Then _she'd_ snapped, and it turned out he wasn't the only one hurting. He felt sick with shame. In hindsight he should have realized she needed her solitude. All the signs were there, but he wouldn't take the hint. He could see something was wrong and he was determined to fix it without realizing that he was the problem. He and Rorek both.

There really was no excuse for why they hadn't told her about…_that_. Oh there were reasons, but no excuses. The plain truth of it was that they had simply been too cowardly, had skirted around the subject, hadn't been able to simply come out and tell her just how deep their bond truly went. They had come up with all sorts of different reasons to wait, too. They'd told each other (and themselves) that if they received any solid evidence that their feelings were reciprocated they would tell her. Then they'd decided they would simply do everything in their power to merge into one body – but they knew they couldn't. Their very skin testified against this possibility. There had also been the fear of rejection. It was not natural for two men to share one woman. Silfron were acknowledged as two parts of a single being by the deep magics, but outside of that they were still two people; two personalities; two lives; two bodies. Silfron were cursed. What if she decided she couldn't handle it?

And then there was the worst reason of all: they simply hadn't been thinking. Not clearly; not properly.

And now Malchior was presenting the memory of finding her sobbing in her bedroom at the European Tower. Then there'd been that night in the ship before they found Red X when something had set her off. He thought it'd been the air mattress but…had it been his tickling? What about Rorek coming out without a shirt on? How long had she been feeling like this?

"_How cruel we have been…"_ Rorek realized. Unthinking, and so very, very cruel. Waving around what she thought she couldn't have; taunting her. Would she forgive them? Yes, probably. How much worse was this than what Malchior had done to her four years ago? But would she accept them as more than friends? Maybe…maybe not.

The worst part was that they _had_ been fighting over her even though, deep down, they knew they shouldn't. Knew that, if she loved one, then she would love the other as well and would never truly be able to favor one above the other in all but the most superficial of ways. That was something they hadn't fully appreciated when Vergonda came into the picture. If they had…if _Rorek_ had…but it'd been much later, and far too late, when they realized that this was the way of things.

But the fighting was inevitable. They _needed_ their little bouts of rough and often-violent tiffs. It was a way of working through the anger, the bitterness, and all the frustrations they still held for one another. All those seething thoughts, all the pain the other had inflicted, and all the hurtful things they had thought _needed_ to come out like the puss of a wound. Other people kept their thoughts to themselves and needed to do so because there were just some things best left unsaid. That wasn't the case for them, though. They _had_ to express those thoughts or it would only add another layer to the barrier separating them.

But the thoughts that kept coming up so often, on both sides and no matter how much they tried to stop them, were, _'She's mine and only mine! Why should I have to share after everything you've put me through?-!'_

"_What should we do now?"_ Malchior wondered.

"_Now? We leave her alone."_

"_Easier said than done."_

"_Yes. Most things are."_

(8)

A/N: My apologies to those of you who think the shocking 'oh, so she gets BOTH of them!' deal is a cop-out, but since I've had all this planned before I even started writing the first draft of the first chapter my response is thus: :P Thpthpthpthpthp! I warned you in the beginning author notes of the first chapter that I'd be recycling certain elements from Spellbinder! Although this is quite a bit more complicated than saying Malchior and Rorek are actually the same person that got separated into two bodies. They are one person AND two people. Try explaining THAT to someone who hasn't had a few drinks.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
To be honest, I think that's going to take more than a pair of skull earrings.

I kind of feel like this chapter was a bit long-winded, though. It might just be me but sorry about that anyway.

Animegal809: I am so happy you have that all figured out. It's so good to know there are other people in the world who realize that there's a difference between love and lust. Although there's nothing wrong with a _little_ lust – in the right place, at the right time, for the right person, and in moderation, of course.


	31. Knight

A/N: I've been watching a few of the older Bugs Bunny cartoons on YouTube and for some odd reason they're a lot funnier now than they were when I was a kid. Weird…

(8)

_I had not seen many dragons so close at hand in my time. There was only the emerald one who haunted my sleep and the wingless one beneath the great tree. I had seen many from a distance, however. They soared high above in the skies of Nahl. Sometimes they flew low enough one could watch and marvel at the slow, graceful movement of their wings. At other times they were so high they appeared able to touch the clouds. Despite such distances, however, I knew that the High Priest was of a size that could rival the combined girth of two of any I had seen before._

_The sight of him was terrifying, and yet he spoke gently to me. He talked of King Hrunting as though of an old friend or distant brother. And then he bade me tell him my trouble, commanding that I withhold nothing from the tale. And so I spoke. And throughout the telling of the first memories of my life he spoke not a word. He simply listened. It was unlike any experience I had had with human priests thus far._

_I came here for judgment. Instead, for a short time at least, I found comfort._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs_

(O)

**Chapter 31 – Knight**

Raven had that sign on her door again. Considering the revelations of last night, Nightwing wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Probably it was just a thing. Sometimes Raven simply needed to be alone and she had taken such great pains to explain _why_ that no one argued anymore. No one wanted another hour-long lecture.

Still, he was kind of disappointed. He wanted to know what was in that cylinder Red X had brought them, but he didn't feel right having X open it without Raven there. It could too easily have something to do with Scath and all that business. But Raven's well-being was more important than whatever that thing was. Even if it turned out they needed to destroy it .

He wanted to make sure she was alright somehow. Maybe…ah, now there was an idea. He pulled out his communicator and sent her a text. Nothing invasive, just, 'Are you alright? Do you need anything?' and she could respond if/when she wished. At least he felt like he'd done something, anyway.

"Nightwing? Can we talk?"

Nightwing looked at Rorek, then back at the sign, then back to Rorek. Someone had once remarked that Nightwing's intuition was almost psychic. When he'd denied this, saying he wasn't psychic, Raven had told him flatly that everyone was psychic. Most people just thought it was instinct, which it was but not in the way you thought. The extended explanation had been lost on him, but what he understood from that was to trust his instinct even when it made some impressive logic leaps. Like now.

"This is about Raven, isn't it?"

Well, okay, it really wasn't that much of a logic leap. They were standing in front of Raven's door, Rorek was regarding the sign without much surprise, and most of their conversations tended to have something to do with Raven. Frankly the guy was a little obsessed. But who was he to talk? Most of their conversations had something to do with Starfire, too.

Rorek nodded, looking downcast. "Something…happened last night." he said. "You could say that Malchior and I have learned what happens when the Lady is not allowed the space she requires."

_Uh oh…_ "Are you two alright?" Nightwing asked.

"I am undamaged. Malchior…is recovering. He may be indisposed for some time."

Nightwing cringed. "Alright, let's go to my room. Tell me what happened."

(O)

'Are you alright? Do you need anything?'

She didn't know. This entire thing was a huge mess and she didn't know where to begin cleaning it up. 'I'm sorry I snapped, smacked you around, mocked you like that, and then tried to kill you.' might be a good start. She just needed to muster up the nerve to face Malchior, which was going to take a bit more time. Time. That was what she needed. And she needed some time away. Yes, away would be good. The fact that she didn't want to venture out of her room because she didn't want to face the twins just yet made her feel a bit trapped. This wasn't going to do her state of mind any favors. She needed to leave the tower itself. She thought about visiting the monastery but decided against it. She would feel obligated to spend the entire day with the kids and she didn't quite feel right leaving this to stew for that long.

She texted Nightwing back. 'I'll be alright. I just need some time. Going to go out for a while, I'll be back by tonight at the latest. Let me know if anything urgent comes up.'

She put on her boots, her cloak, and her belt. Then she teleported herself just outside the Wax Ribbon. There weren't any shields in place to prevent her from teleporting inside, but doing so was bad manners. The inside was quiet since it was still pretty early in the day. On the one hand that was nice since it meant there weren't a whole lot of people around. On the other hand it meant what few people who _did_ come in were given a bit more attention and it wasn't so easy to be lost in the crowd. Oh well. She went over to the cafe to get something, she didn't really care what. They had an enormous range of teas to choose from so she picked one at random, had some milk and honey added, paid, and sat down on one of the tables next to the wall where she'd be in the shadows. There were quite a few shadows.

She spent 30 minutes blankly thinking of small, trivial things like cleaning out her closets, making an inventory of her stores, getting some crystals, and finding some spell to remove the odd red mark that had appeared on her ceiling. Then Jinx materialized.

"You don't usually come here to just sit and stare at nothing. Should I be worried?" the pink-haired girl asked.

"Dunno, are we friends enough for you to care much about my mental well-being?" Raven asked.

Jinx thought about it a minute. "That depends on the level of creepy, I'm thinking." she decided.

"Jinx, you're wearing skull earrings." Raven pointed out. Those were new. They weren't just skulls, though. They were made of silver (or a silver plating) and had little pink crystals clutched in the open jaws. They were getting pretty popular since you could enchant the crystals with some small spell to repel bugs or keep the rain off.

"Yeah, but this is conventional creepy. Creepy for the sake of being creepy, which is suddenly 'in' these days for some reason. You've got the _real_ kind of creepy going on up in here. The kind of creepy that doesn't need skull earrings." Jinx said.

"Really? Because I was thinking about getting a pair. Would that be too much?" Raven asked.

"No, I think it would be more like hiding in plain sight. Use conventional creepy to cover up the actual creepy. No one who sees skull earrings is going to think 'now this is the real thing'. I mean, you walk around here with no ornamentation at all and somewhere deep down people can tell that you're the real thing. You're showing me up, you know." Jinx stated.

"Sorry. I'm not trying to, but I'm not really an ornamental person. This is about as ornamental as I get." Raven said, showing Jinx one of the gems on the back of her hands.

"Cool ring. Where'd you get it?" Jinx asked, focusing on the wrong bit of ornamentation.

Raven looked down. "Oh…" she kept forgetting about the rings. She kept them on, not because the twins had given them to her and told her she needed them, but because she simply didn't think to take them off. They fit so snugly and so comfortably that she simply didn't notice them.

"Oh you've got two. Can I see one?" Jinx asked.

Raven didn't see why not. Jinx wasn't about to steal anything right in front of her. She'd be losing a faithful customer for one thing. So she took the ring on her left hand off and handed it over. Jinx examined the blue iron band.

"Interesting color. What's it made of?"

"Iron, or something with iron in it." Raven answered.

"Cobalt's a metal, right?" Jinx asked. "Hey there's some kind of inscription on the inside."

"Is there?" Raven asked, surprised. She took her other ring off and looked at the inside of the band. Sure enough, there was writing. But she didn't recognize the strange swirling characters. Weird. Usually she could at least pick up some familiarity with whatever ancient writing she encountered. But these, she remembered, were older than even the twins. Much older. Strange, they looked so shiny and new. There were no scratches, no tarnish, no marks save for the inscribed writing. Writing which, she realized, had been done by hand despite how fine and tiny it was. Tiny hands? Just how big were these nibelungen? "Huh, I wonder what it says."

"'Let me buy you dinner, M'Lady'?" Jinx suggested innocently.

"Ha ha." Raven rolled her eyes and put the ring back on. Jinx handed over the second.

"So is he your boyfriend yet?"

"No."

"Oh good gawd, Raven. Would it kill you to have a love life?" Jinx, demanded.

_It feels like it's trying to._ "How is _your_ love life going?" Raven asked.

"Great. Couldn't be happier!"

"How often do you see each other?"

"About once a week."

"Right…"

"You know if you don't grab that knight in shining armor someone else will. He has a fan club already, though no one can seem to find out what his name is and the only pictures they've got are from security cameras. Not the best of quality."

"I told you his name when you met him. In front of witnesses." Raven stated.

"Yeah, but at the time I didn't care and the witnesses were too busy swooning." Jinx chuckled. "Doesn't matter, though. They've been calling him the White Knight."

"Appropriate." Raven mused.

"He's a magic-user, though. So that's causing some argument."

"Well, go far enough back in history and most knights _were_ magic-users." Raven told her.

"What, really? Awesome! That'll stop this whole silly argument, then."

Raven, who obviously understood more about human nature than Jinx did, thought, _And allow room for another silly argument about something else._ Out loud she said, "I wonder what the fanbase will make of his twin."

"Twin? He has a twin?"

"Sort of. We call them twins but…you know Billy Numerous?"

"Um, _yes_." Jinx rolled her eyes. Raven ignored this.

"Well that's not what they are, but it's close. It's kind of complicated."

"Right, so that's _two_ White Knights. I think the fanbase, mostly girls, of course, might just froth at the mouth."

"Actually that would be a White Knight and a Black Knight. Malchior's hair is black, his eyes are red, his skin is white, and his armor is gold."

"So they have some kind of yin-yang thing going?"

"More like fire and ice, really."

"I never really understood that deal. Fire and ice aren't actually opposites, you know. They're both one thing in different forms. It's all a matter of heat. An absence isn't an opposite, after all."

"Only in the arcane arts." Raven stated. "Outside of magic, an absence is considered an opposite. But, yes. As analogies go I'm thinking your interpretation works pretty good. Not opposites – in a magical sense – but different forms of the same thing." she mused, thinking.

"Happy to help. So which one do you like more?" Jinx asked.

"Neither. They're both good friends…mostly." she added in a dark undertone.

"Oh? What did they do?"

"They wouldn't leave me alone."

"Oooooh, so _that's_ why you're here. You're hiding."

"You neither sound nor appear at all sympathetic."

"Yeah, sorry. I can't say I'd be too thrilled having two guys fighting over me. It sounds all cool and romantic in stories but in real life it'd be a pain. Especially if you can't decide who you like more."

They had been fighting over her, but…not as much as one might expect. And, now that she looked back, there had been a few instances where it didn't seem as though either Malchior or Rorek minded when she was with the other. In fact, they had been more or less tag-teaming, hadn't they? The way one was always near her even while the other went off for some reason or other. They'd done it at the concert and they'd been doing it ever since Red X arrived.

Suddenly she felt stupid. She _should_ have noticed something was off about that. She should have just come out and said something. Sure it would have been embarrassing as hell but what was some blushing and stammering compared to sending Malchior over the edge and nearly killing him like that? His arm, jaw, and chest were probably still hurting from the dreamscape damage. She wasn't sure how that worked, but The Other had somehow understood it all instinctively. When you got deep enough into a dreamscape it became something like The Matrix. When your mind believes you're hurt then it's going to register pain – which could, of course, go further. If your mind believes you're dead then…well, you die. She'd see if she could fix that when she went to check on him. And she'd go check on him as soon as she got up the nerve.

"About those skull earrings." Raven began, changing the subject. She didn't really want them that much, but…well, maybe a bit of ornamentation wouldn't hurt. And skulls would be more her style than ankhs or pentagrams. "Do you have any made if iron with blue stones?" Raven asked.

"Iron? No. We have silver, stainless steel, glass, marble, and spruced up plastic. Take your pick." Jinx said. "They're all charmed so they don't weigh down your ears, of course, and the charm is in a tiny crystal in the skull's head so it won't get in the way of any enchanting you want to do on the bigger crystals."

"Steel, then." Raven decided. She sent her empty cup floating over to the trash can and stood up.

"I'll get you a 100% discount if you let me take one of those rings of yours to the appraiser in the pawn shop."

"Uh, _why_?"

"Curiosity. You never told me where you got them, you know." Jinx said.

"Nah, I'll just pay as usual." Raven said. Then she stopped and looked up, frowning. "Jinx, I never asked you this before but I've always wondered why you have horseshoes up all over the place. You put them in places few people will notice so they can't be decoration, and they sort of go against the whole ethos of the store." she said.

Jinx shrugged, "Oh, you know, good luck and all that."

Raven raised an eyebrow. Jinx sighed.

"Alright, alright. If you _must_ know, it was back at H. I. V. E.. Someone put a horseshoe up on my door as a joke and I couldn't get it off. But I noticed that, for some reason, the Headmaster and…certain others, stopped coming near my room. I'm not superstitious like that or anything but, well, it seemed like there was something about the horseshoe that kept the worst parts of the Acadamy away. Call it a security blanket. I just like having horseshoes around." she explained.

_It wasn't the horseshoe, it was the iron._ Raven thought. "Ah." was what she said aloud, however.

There were a lot of skull earrings. But the more popular something got the more of it you saw. Unfortunately there was almost as much variety as there was quantity so finding a pair of the stainless steel ones that had a blue stone in the mouth was a bit hard. Most of them were clear crystals or those strange multi-colored stones. Weren't those called Australian crystals? No, mystic crystals. Some sort of chemical alteration they did with the metal impurities found in quartz. The first pair she found with blue stones also had a Celtic knot on the forehead and she passed it by.

"What was wrong with that pair?" Jinx asked. Then Raven remembered what Rorek said about metal being a safe medium. Maybe he wouldn't mind these then. But she'd look for something else first.

"I just want something simple." she muttered and continued looking.

In the end she found a pair that were such a dark blue they were nearly black and so she missed them at first. She paid for them and, about thirty minutes of going from shop to shop with no real goal in mind while talking about trivial things, she realized she was _shopping_ with Jinx. She brought this to the other sorceress's attention.

"Oh god, we are, aren't we? Guess this means we're actual friends now. So am I invited to the wedding?" she asked with her cat-like smile.

"What wedding?" Raven asked thinking, for one wild moment, of Nightwing and Starfire.

Jinx picked up one of Raven's wrists so that the blue iron ring caught the light. Raven took her wrist back. "Wrong finger. Wrong hand too, if you want to be picky."

"I notice there are _two_ rings."

"They're protective charms." Raven stated.

"Oh? Protecting you, are they? What do you need protecting from?" Jinx asked.

"Dragons." Raven said sarcastically. Jinx snickered.

"Or the love life that's going to kill you. So, since we're friends now, want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly. More like complain. Unfortunately what I want to complain about isn't something they like to discuss. Which is sort of the whole reason for the present mess."

"Now you've got me curious." Jinx stated petulantly.

"While we're on the subject, I don't suppose you have any magical restraining orders, do you?"

"I'm not even sure those exist so probably not."

"Drat."

"Very, _very_ curious."

"Sorry. Are you sure these earrings don't look strange on me?"

"You can barely see them behind that hair. You look fine."

"Hiding in plain sight?" Raven asked.

"Mmm, to be honest, I think that's going to take more than a pair of skull earrings."

(O)

Raven made sure there was no one around before she approached Malchior's door. She thought about just barging in without knocking (like he'd done that one night in the European Tower) but decided against it. She wasn't absolutely sure he was still in there, but when she knocked she got a response.

"_What_?" It sounded grumpy and a little petulant, like a child that thinks he's being disturbed for something he's not going to like doing.

Raven cringed. She hated this. She hated how hard it was to force herself just to knock on his door, and more to get the response out of her throat. She remembered the comfort she once had with him, the way he use to curl around her as a dragon, protecting her as she slept. She held on to that feeling. "It's me." she got out. "I need to make sure you're healing. Can I come in?"

"What?-! Yes! I—" there was a thud. "Bahrahgol!"

Raven opened the door to find Malchior tangled in his blankets on the side of his bed and rubbing a head that must have hit the bedside table on his way down. He wasn't wearing a shirt. He had pants on, yes, but no shirt. Fortunately she managed to retain enough conscious thought to close the door behind her before rushing over to him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, but he was already picking himself up by the time she got to him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I just…forgot there were blankets there." he told her. There was a very large crack in the table.

"I think that's going to need to be replaced." Raven said, looking at it. Of course, much of Malchior's furniture had gotten damaged last night. Probably it already had some cracks before he fell on it.

"Yes, with something a bit more hard-wearing than plywood." he mused. Then, with a snap, the table broke in two and collapsed in on itself. "I wasn't using it anyway." he muttered.

And then the air got tense and awkward. Raven looked down at her cloak, which was draped over her shoulders and hung just an inch or two off the ground. She wished Malchior had his shirt and scarf on. She kept wanting to look up and trace the patterns on his skin with her eyes. She used to like Celtic knot patterns a lot. Her notebooks were full of them. But somehow seeing them on a person's skin like that, knowing that they _weren't_ tattoos, weren't just designs…it sort of soured her taste for them. Well, no, it didn't, to be honest. What it did was make her feel guilty about liking them.

"You should…probably lie down." she said after a lengthy pause.

"Right."

He did so and she sat down at the edge of the bed next to him, leaning over so she could place her hands on either temple. She took a deep breath, adjusted her mind with some light meditation, and dove deep into his mind once again. He did not resist her at all. Far from it. Instead his mind seemed to reach out to her instinctively and pull her in.

"What is this place?" he asked softly.

"It's not a place. And I need you to be quiet." she told him.

She turned her attention to _it_ and examined it. Quite a few of the pieces had rearranged themselves but within her glaze the general 'shape' of the thing was staying solid and secure. There was some…stress, but her glaze was keeping that from effecting the thing itself. She allowed herself to go a bit deeper to find the damage done by the dreamscape. Flashes went past her, through her, swirled around her, but she'd had the training and discipline necessary to prevent herself from paying these things enough attention to remember them or even acknowledge them. When you went this deep, what you learned of them they also learned of you. She reached out. The damage was not difficult to undo. It was like untying a loose knot, but it _had_ been hurting him…and there'd been more than just the jaw, chest, and wrist at that.

She began pulling out.

"Are you finished?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Can't you stay a while?"

"No, I can't. It's dangerous."

"Oh…"

He let her go, but he was still reluctant. Unconscious parts of him were clinging to her, but they were a bit easier to deal with than they had been the last time. Then she opened her eyes and drew her hands away. He opened his eyes and sat up.

"Raven…" He took hold of her wrist, as if afraid that she was about to leave. "I'm sorry."

"Me too…" she murmured, looking down at their hands. She couldn't think of what else to say, so she said what she'd already thought up some time ago. "I'm sorry I snapped, smacked you around, mocked you like that, and then tried to kill you."

"And I'm sorry I acted like a douche bag and caused you to snap." he said.

That did it. That slang in that accent…all the nervousness and anxiety bubbled up into a bought of giggles that she couldn't stop. He'd done it on purpose too. She knew it because of the grin on his face. She liked being able to see his entire face, though. In fact, she rather liked being able to see his chest too.

Rorek was the pretty one, but in truth they were both equally beautiful. It was simply that they each had a different kind of beauty. It was…yes, it was like fire and ice. Ice sparkled. A landscape blanketed in snow with still, frosted air and a pale sky overhead seemed calm, lovely, and inviting. It did not _look_ as dangerous as it really was. But ice _was_ dangerous. It was at once wonderful and deadly.

Fire, however, fire _did_ look dangerous. And while it was burning your house down you didn't always stop to notice how beautiful the dancing flames and all their colors could be. But there were camp fires, candle fires, flairs, fireworks, concert pyrotechnics…you had to be able to look at it in a situation that was free of fear in order to see just how amazing it was. But then, a little fear added some thrill, didn't it?

The laughter died down, though, and she felt the smile drain from her face. Her eyes went back down to his wrist, tracing the scars and the slight arrow shape they made down the back of his hand. Just far enough to need his vambrace to poke out in order to hide it. He moved his hand from her wrist to her own hand, squeezing it.

"I am sorry for the other thing as well." he whispered. "We both are…"

She wanted to say that she forgave him…but it would be a lie. "In a way," she began, still not looking at him. "I feel like I should have caught on that something was off. There were clues everywhere. But—"

"But it should not have been up to you to figure it out. We should have told you, and there is no good excuse for why we didn't. There are reasons…but no excuses."

She bit her lip, thankful he had cut her off. What had been trying to come out of her mouth was much of the same thing, though her tone would not have been nearly so calm and coming from _her_ it would have revealed quite a lot of the anger and hurt that was still pulsing deep inside.

"Raven…I'm sorry."

He wanted her to say she forgave him, forgave them. She could feel it. But she wasn't going to lie. Not to them.

She _would_ forgive them, she knew she would. But… "I need time." she murmured, pulling her hand out of his. He let it go, though reluctantly. She forced herself to look at him as she got to her feet. "You should rest." she told him.

(O)

When Raven was gone Malchior fell back down onto his bed with a 'thump-squee-ee-eek'. It wasn't exactly the best mattress in the world. _"We screwed up big time."_

"_Nightwing agrees."_ Rorek responded forlornly.

"_Oh whatever. Why is this any of his business in the first place?"_

"_He considers Raven to be one of his own. In this small community he is the leader and is responsible for those he leads. Therefore their well-being is, indeed, his business. He understands this and acts upon it. Would it irritate you to know he considers us part of this community as well?"_

"_I'm only here for Raven."_ Malchior stated.

"_Liar. You have just as much affection for the others as I do. You just don't want to admit it. Even to yourself."_

"_Ah, ha, I see what you did there."_

The words stopped but the link was by no means silent. Feelings, memories, and vague thoughts not quite clear enough for words were passed from one to the other. The two of them did their best to never be completely closed off from one another, but even though Rorek was vaguely aware that Raven had come to visit Malchior during the fact, he still needed Malchior to pass him the memories _of_ that visit for him to gain details. Rorek, likewise, passed him the memories of his conversation with Nightwing. Nightwing was _not happy_ with either of them. Apparently Raven had spoken to him yesterday about her trouble and he had told her what the two of them should have explained long ago.

Rorek had told Nightwing what happened. Malchior wasn't too pleased about that, but at least his twin hadn't gone into too much detail. Nightwing's anger tapered slightly when he learned that both Malchior and Rorek had nearly died, but he wanted them to leave her alone for a while. Malchior's knee-jerk reaction to this was to bristle in defiance, but he managed to control it. He remembered the first time he'd encountered Nightwing when he, Beast Man, and Starfire had snuck out his book to give him what-for. The boy had listened, _actually listened_ to what Malchior said…and what he _hadn't_ said.

There was a knock on Malchior's door again, but he very much doubted it could possibly be Raven. "Yes?" he called.

The door opened and Beast Man's wild grin appeared around the door. "Hey Malchior! Are you too tired for the Banana House?" he asked eagerly. Then his eyes bulged when he spotted the dragon's state of undress. "_Whoa_…cool tattoos! Is that a dragon thing?"

Malchior smirked, "Thanks, but no. It's _my_ thing. Well…_our_ thing, but I actually like them. Rorek's embarrassed."

"He has some too? Duuuuude, I'll bet that took _ages_." Beast Man said, slipping into the room with a cardboard box under his arm. He shut the door behind him and, without even asking, started setting up the gaming console that was in the cardboard box on the unused television in Malchior's room. "How come some of your stuff is broken?"

"I had a dream where the furniture was insulting me." he lied. "Sorry about that."

Malchior was suddenly surprised by how little he minded the shifter's intrusion. In fact it was…kind of nice.

Oh what the hell? He was friends with an annoying little green man who turned into animals and that was that. Why fight it? He tossed his legs over the side of the bed, got up, and joined the shifter on the floor in front of the TV.

(O)

The H.I.V.E. Five had attacked the Wax Ribbon. Raven was pretty sure there wouldn't be much of anything left for the Titans to do when they arrived and was proven right. But they had to make an appearance, didn't they?

Still, it was a bit of a surprise to see all of them in a heap outside the mini-mall with Jinx standing next to it wiping her hands together after having just tossed an unconscious Gizmo on top of the heap. Mammoth, who was at the bottom, wasn't unconscious but he did look very woozy and was groaning. Three of Billy Numerous were making bubbling noises.

"Oh hi!" Jinx said cheerfully when she spotted them. "Sorry about that, I didn't think you'd be here so quickly. There might be enough left of See-More's butt to kick if you like." she offered.

"She gave me pink eye!" See-More exclaimed, clutching at his eye.

Jinx smirk. "I adjusted the pigments of that eye in his helmet. Now he can't see anything but pink. I thought it'd be a cruel joke but it seems to have incapacitated him somehow."

"Good job. You took them all down by yourself?" Nightwing asked.

"You know, it's amazing just how much more time you can spend focusing on _honing_ your talents when you're not spending it thinking of how to use them for dastardly deeds. Besides, I used to be their _leader_. I know exactly what these guys are capable of, what their weaknesses are, and how they think – though I use that term very loosely." she explained.

"Snot munching traitor…" Gizmo mumbled out.

"Come on, Gizmo. Join the good guys. It's not nearly as lame as we thought. Besides, these new Teen Titan communicators that Cyborg cooked up are better than iPhones." she said, waving hers (which had a pair of pink cat eyes under the camera) at the boys. "They're water-proof and hard to break, for a start."

"What's the camera like?" Gizmo asked.

"12 mega-pixel." Cyborg answered with his chest puffed out proudly.

"DUDE! That lens is TINY! How'd you do that?-!"

"Gizmo! You ain't think'n of leavin' us for some fancy gadget are you?" all of Billy demanded simultaneously.

"NO!…Maybe…you're all losers anyway."

"Speaking of the awesome camera…" Jinx turned and aimed the little lens directly at Malchior and Rorek, who were, helpfully, standing side-by-side.

Malchior put his hands on his hips and leered at her, "And what do you intend to do with that picture?" he demanded.

"I'm going to sell it to your fanbase." she answered shamelessly.

"Our what?" Rorek asked.

"We have a fanbase? How did that happen?" Malchior demanded.

"Well, _he_ has a fanbase. And you will too as soon as this picture is on the internet." Jinx said, pocketing her camera.

"Hmm…I wonder how much I could get for that one I caught of the two of you leaning against one another napping." Raven mused.

"Not nearly as much as I will give you for deleting it." Malchior told her, his eyes wide.

"What picture? When did that happen?" Rorek asked wildly.

"Now I want to see this picture." Cyborg snickered.

"I will murder the first person who looks at it! The second person won't be so lucky." Malchior growled.

"Gonna be hard to find the first and second people if that picture gets on the internet." Jinx snickered. "I'd wait until they both have enough frothing fangirls." she told Raven, who _almost_ felt sorry for the twins. Almost.

"Raven, I'm begging you. With gold. Pure gold. Get rid of that picture." Malchior said.

"I am not sure I understand why this is such a big deal." Rorek came in as the police started carting the H.I.V.E. members off.

"That's because you don't understand the internet. See, this is why being brain-dead for a thousand years is a bad idea." Malchior stated.

"A thousand years?" Jinx asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, they were both trapped in books for a thousand years. Malchior was the only one aware of stuff, though." Beast Boy told her.

"That information does not need to go on the internet, however." Malchior, who was probably thinking of Morgaine Le Fay, informed Jinx.

"Fine by me. I'm only giving them this picture so people will stop bugging me about White Knight over here."

"'White Knight'?" Rorek repeated curiously.

"Yeah, that's what they're calling you." Jinx told him.

"Very original." Malchior snorted.

"They're fangirls. You can't expect much. If you'd prefer different names you're welcome to tell me and I'll set the record straight." she said.

"Actually I think I would like 'White Knight'." Rorek stated.

"But that sticks me with 'Black Knight'! Which is even _more _cliché! And it's not even as though my armor is black!" Malchior complained.

"That doesn't matter. You're black _somewhere_ after all." Jinx answered. "Besides, the fact that your armor _isn't_ black makes it a little less cliché."

"Would you rather have your actual names all over the internet?" Raven asked.

Malchior and Rorek looked at one another for two seconds before Malchior sighed in defeat. "Fine, Black Knight it is." he grumbled.

"You'll grow into it." Nightwing told him.

"Wait a minute…did I just become a Teen Titan?" Malchior demanded.

"Guys, I think he's on to us…" Cyborg said in a staged whisper.

"That's kind of what they did to me." Jinx admitted. "I started going out with Kid Flash then suddenly I found a communicator in my pocket." She shrugged. "Not that I'm complaining. These new ones are awesome."

"Why thank you! So do you want a stylized 'M' on yours?" Cyborg asked Malchior.

"It's not an 'M', it's a Nordic rune called 'ehwaz', which is actually an 'E', if you must know." Malchior stated. "Rorek's _is_ an 'R', though. It's called 'raido'. The fact that these characters resemble the Latin Alphabet's 'M' and 'R' was simply a coincidence."

"Alright, so do you want a stylized…whatever you just called it, on your communicator?" Cyborg asked.

"Sure, why not?"

"Why the distinction?" Nightwing asked. "I mean, what was the point of the runes?"

"They were popular marks for traveling knights to put on some part of their armor during our time." Rorek answered. "Back then there was a lot of wild magic about and it worked…differently. Symbols such as these were often used to…"

"Give the wild magics a hint." Malchior finished. "'Raido' means 'journey' or 'travel' while 'ehwaz' means 'horse' or 'transportation'. What they did was informed the magics and therefore any local entity of an arcane nature that we were travelers, therefore just passing through and not to be thought of as encroaching on anyone's territory provided that anyone was benign and keeping to themselves. In some areas this was essential. Back then you sometimes found that it was the dormant and reclusive entities or beings which were the most dangerous to cross."

"Wait a minute, so you really _are_ knights?" Jinx asked.

"Yes…actually, we were…for a time." Rorek answered.

"Awesome! Were you in King Arthur's court?"

"Wrong century." Raven told her.

"Drat."

(O)

The Titans got back to the Tower soon enough to finish breakfast before it got too cold. Then Cyborg went to get Rorek and Malchior's communicators fixed up (Rorek still had an older one, though he was getting the hang of it thanks to his time spent with Raven and Cyborg in Cyborg's garage), Nightwing and Beast Boy played a racing game on the big screen, Starfire was reading something glittery and pink with a little silver crown on the cover, and Raven had her own book out, though its cover was old and made of leather. Malchior and Rorek were arguing, big surprise, but given the nature of their present argument they were doing it mentally even though they were outwardly trying to strangle one another.

"_I want to sit beside her!"_

"_No! Nightwing told us to give her space!"_

"_I'll give her space! 6 inches of it!"_

"_Just because she is talking to us and acknowledging us without rancor that does not mean we should push our luck!"_

"_I never said **you** had to sit with us!"_

"Um…hey Rae? Is it normal for these two to be quietly trying to kill each other in the corner over here?" Cyborg's voice called.

"Well the quiet part is a bit unusual, but otherwise yes." Raven's voice answered.

"_You know, this is exactly why we are having such issues with this! We cannot continue this attitude! Jealousy and competition are the reasons why polygamy does not work and is not simply a bad idea because it is scripturally forbidden."_

"_Yes, well, I don't see anywhere in the scriptures what silfron are supposed to do about the 'no polygamy' thing!"_

"They do this a lot?"

"Yes."

"_You know as well as I do that we are considered as one being and one being cannot decide one half of it gets the girl while the other half rots! Are you going to turn around and make the same mistake I did?"_

"_I'm not deciding that! I just want her to myself a little…"_

"Malchior just decked Rorek in the nose."

"They're fine. Besides, I thought beating each other senseless was how men show their affection for one another."

"_Maartuz, if we can't figure out some way to make this work then what right do we have to ask her to accept us?-!"_

"…_I really hate it when you're right."_

"Neither Friend Malchior nor Friend Rorek appear to be damaged…"

"How could you tell under all that armor?"

"_We have an audience."_

"_So what else is new?"_

"Thor kept trying to make bets on what they'd wind up damaging next but no one would take them."

"Twenty bucks says they scratch the table."

"Nice try, Cyborg, but I can tell from your voice that there's already a mark."

"You know, I keep forgetting why we never play poker with you."

(8)

A/N: You know what sucks? I had this whole plot point mapped out in my head based around the idea that the modern alphabet wasn't around back in 900-1000 AD. And then I actually researched the whole deal and found out that it's a lot older than I thought. Don't you hate it when stupid things like _facts_ get in the way of what could have been a pretty cool bit of the story? I mean I already rearranged the whole Arthuran Legends' timetable for the purposes of funny (well, alright, there was _some_ plot in there too), so I didn't feel right doing it again. OH WELL!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Does stalking count as a hobby?

We recently acquired an X-box Kinect and it is so much fun but I am so sore. Gotta figure out how to stop it taking all those pictures of me looking stupid, though. I can't explain why, but I have this curious objection to allowing my technology to mock me.


	32. Kel

A/N: Virtual cookies for whoever saw this one coming! The thing with Red X, I mean. Personally I thought it was a bit obvious but it could be that I'm sneakier than I think I am…

(8)

_The High Priest bade me take up a blade and seek out a dragon who, like the emerald beast of my nightmares, had strayed from the Teachings of Maartuz, the Scriptures of Iiam Bormah who was also the God of the Christian faith. I was to slay this dragon and return when it had been done. If I could slay a dragon such as Diinkestkrah with no training and no weapons then I was more than capable of carrying out the High Priest's judgment with my magical potency and the blade he would provide for me._

_This angered me. I had killed one dragon already and the High Priest himself wished me to be the architect of another dragon's death. To this the Priest replied that it was not a request; it was a command. The blood of the dragon I slew would therefore be on the hands of the High Priest and not mine. But he would that I might find understanding in this task. And once I had performed it he would tell me more about the gods of old and why it was that mortal men set out to trap them in words. This he knew for he was directly descended from those dragons who aided the sorcerers in their endeavor some two or three thousand years ago._

_Thirsty for such knowledge and the understanding that would free me of my nightmares, I set out on yet another long journey, wishing bitterly for companionship. But Madam Crow did not reappear. It was a journey I faced alone._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 32 – Kel**

"Hang on, hang on! I want to make sure that thing isn't booby trapped before we just _open it up_." Cyborg exclaimed hastily.

"It isn't." Red X assured him.

"How do you know?"

"Because I took them all out and used them to get rid of my pursuers. That's how. They were some serious bombs, too. Glad I had them." X answered, pulling out quite a few keys to set on the table next to the tube. It had been divested of its fitted tote bag and was currently sitting far below ground in the iron-plated bunker that had been Red X's home for the past few days. It seemed the best place to open it up, even if they _did_ all have to crowd around his little living space. Raven had removed the trash that he, in a fit of stereotypical masculine behavior, managed to accumulate. X complained about that in an effort to irritate her. She didn't take the bait, though.

It took X the better part of 20 minutes to get the tube open. He was working pretty fast on it, though. Most of the codes he seemed to know while others he had to spend a second or two breaking. Finally there was a hissing, almost whistling sound of air flying into the container and the hatch clicked open. The Titans waited, impatient and curious as hell, for Red X to pull the thing, whatever it was, out of the tube. He'd insisted on space so none of them were close enough to see. They heard his exclamation, though. "What the—what the heck is this?-!"

"What? What is it?" Nightwing asked.

Red X dipped a hand into the tube and pulled out…a scroll. It was rather impressive-looking with an ornate setting in bronze that had the look of something old but professionally cleaned and polished in an attempt to shine up something that was basically all tarnish. The paper was thick and cloth-like, probably parchment but it could have just as easily been papyrus. It had to have been preserved with some heavy-duty magic because it not only _looked_ old but _felt_ old; bound by loops of twine fastened into place with a single golden pin-like object that had a brilliant blue gemstone in the setting.

Raven thought she'd seen one of those before. In fact, she _knew_ she'd seen it before. It was…in a picture somewhere. There had been a few of them piled up, but she couldn't quite remember where that picture had come from.

It wasn't anywhere near the size of the container, though. It was barely more than a foot long but pretty thick. Very thick, actually. And heavy based on the way Red X was hefting it.

"Ooookayyyy…" Cyborg said, plucking it out of his hand. "And this is supposed to do what, exactly?" he asked.

"I don't get it. This thing was some huge power source! What the crap?-! Is there something else in here?" X demanded, examining the inside of the container more fully.

Raven looked over at the twins. Their expressions were…strange.

And, suddenly, she knew what it was. "Oh…god…" she murmured weakly. Everyone looked at her.

"Yes indeed." Malchior mused with grim irony.

"You know what that is, Raven?" Nightwing asked her.

She looked at the twins. Rorek was pressing his hands to his face and shaking his head but Malchior simply stood with a determined look in his eye. He crossed the room and retrieved the scroll from Cyborg. "She knows as much as I've told her, yes." he told them.

"How much power does it have?" Rorek asked.

"A lot." Malchior answered grimly. "_Bovoth_." he hissed out, startling most of the Titans. In a strange way it was a bit worse than if he'd said the word in English. At least English swearwords didn't seem to hang in the air and snarl at you like Draconic ones did. In English it was just a puff of air. In Draconic it turned into a psychic gel that stuck around and didn't let you forget it in a hurry.

"So it is magical, huh? What is it?" Red X asked curiously.

"Do you want the short version or the long one? The long version is not a nice story, though the short version might be a bit misleading. I doubt even the cult knows just what this is and why it's so powerful." he mused.

"Tell us what you think we need to know." Nightwing said.

"Very well, this is called a Kel. In your language it would be something like 'Elder Scroll'. There are many stories about them. Some say they were used to create the world, or worlds, but that's just a story. Whatever the case, they are powerful. Very powerful. They have been used to create spare dimensions, travel through space, alter physical characteristics, and, of course, to destroy. It is variable power, that means it can be shaped like clay and there is very little one cannot do with it. It is, quite literally, the power of a god. But the power is not limitless. There's a lot of it, but over time the Kel eventually ran dry, becoming just paper and no more. This one, though…I'd say it still has at least half its full power left. And in this time, in this modern era, that is a lot. Far too much. So the question now becomes: What the _hell_ were these people planning to do with this?-! And why do they think they need _more_ power?-!" he demanded, rounding on X, who flinched back.

"Don't ask me! I just stole the thing, I had no idea what it really was!" X exclaimed.

"You were able to get deep enough into this cult's hierarchy in order to reach this and yet you don't know what they're after?-! Pull the other one, it's got bells on!" Malchior snarled.

"Alright! Alright! Look, I don't know for sure but if I had to guess I'd say they're wanting to bring back Scath, or Trigon! He's got dozens of names but those are the ones they're using now. Only Slade is telling them that the big guy is gone for good and he seems pretty sure of that. Like he's more than just dead. But Mother Mayhem is equally sure that he's lying or, if not, just misinformed. And I can kind of see where she's coming from. I mean, if Trigon's really gone then why is Slade so bent on stopping the cult? What real threat could they be?"

"These people do not need some demon or whatever the hell this 'Trigon' is to be a threat when they are using Blood Magic to such an extent!" Malchior exclaimed. He looked like he was going to strike Red X with the scroll so Raven rushed forward and took him by the arm.

"Malchior, I understand why you're angry. But losing your temper like this won't help." she said. "Besides, Red X isn't the one you should be yelling at. He risked a lot to get that scroll away from the cult. We should be thankful." she said.

"Yeah! I stuck my neck out for you guys!" Red X exclaimed.

"Forgive me if I find your altruism hard to swallow." Malchior sneered. "You just stole this to use as a bargaining tool for your own pathetic life, didn't you? You had no idea of its value or just how important it was."

"Does it _matter_?-!" Raven demanded. "The point is that we have the scroll and they don't. Whatever they're planning, they can't go through with it."

"Not _yet_, Raven." Malchior said darkly, turning to her. "Would you like to know how many people are going to die so that they can replace the power they lost from this?" he asked.

"Hundreds." Rorek murmured. "Probably thousands. You never truly know the value of a life before it is taken."

Raven felt the blood drain from her face as hisses and cries of shock went up from the rest of the Titans.

"They…they wouldn't. Not that many. It…" Red X sounded sick. "No! They'll try to find the scroll first. And Slade won't let them go that far. I told you, he's been a real problem for them lately."

"They've already killed three – that we know of anyway." Nightwing said grimly.

Red X looked surprised. "What? No they haven't. I'd have heard."

_Why?_ Raven wondered suddenly. _Why would they tell you everything?_ Out loud she said, "Batman sent us a message not long ago. There were three dead bodies found. Each of them were prominent members of society, each of them had a word from a special chant written on the wall in the place they died, and each of them had the mark of Scath painted on their flesh. Flesh that, I might add, was devoid of blood." she explained.

"Oh…I guess that happened after I escaped. I've been dodging them for quite some time now." he explained.

"Meaning that they've already begun the process of replacing the lost power. I wonder who else has died that we've not been told about or that haven't been found." Nightwing ground out. "This isn't good…"

"I doubt very many." Red X offered encouragingly.

"Why?" Nightwing asked.

"Slade. He has them that worried, trust me. Back when I was still with the cult, no one was dying to give Mother Mayhem and the others their power. They've only been taking a little here and there and allowing their victims or contributors to recover so they can take more. But to be honest I'd believe anything of that crazy bitch. I really would. Most didn't think she'd go _that_ far, but I would." he explained.

And then she knew. She knew exactly who Red X really was. And it made way too much sense.

"Have some of these contributors been willing?" Rorek asked.

"Quite a few. Most of them were other members of the cult but they did have prisoners for one reason or another. That and some homeless people willing to give up their blood for food and shelter." Red X answered.

"I really cannot imagine all of this is public knowledge in the cult." Malchior stated, leering at Red X. "Any intelligent practitioner of Blood Magic would know better than to allow just anyone inside information like this. How do _you_ know all this?"

"I'm inquisitive, and very good at getting answers." Red X told him, shrugging. "The point is that I have the info. What does it matter how I got it?"

"They would have caught you if you'd been snooping around. And there is no good reason why they should have let you live afterwards. There is something you are not telling us. What is it?" Malchior demanded.

"You're the new Brother Blood, aren't you?" Raven asked softly.

"NO!" X shouted, shooting to his feet.

"WHAT?-!" several others yelled.

It explained everything. Especially all the inconsistencies in Red X's story. It also made sense when she thought back to the concert when Madam Rouge, who'd told them that no one knew where the current Brother Blood was. The words 'naughty' and 'rebellious' had put Raven in mind of someone young, as young as them, perhaps a bit older.

"I am NOT Brother Blood!" Red X shouted. Raven was a bit surprised by his vehemence. It was, perhaps, the first time she'd ever seen Red X truly angry. He pointed his finger at her, though she wasn't sure if it was a gesture of accusation or admonishment. "And I'm not going to _be_ Brother Blood. You hear me?-!" he demanded.

"Hey, whoa, fine by us, Dude." Cyborg said, his hands up in supplication.

"Yeah, chill out." Beast Boy came in.

"But you were _supposed_ to be Brother Blood? Why?" Nightwing asked.

Red X threw his arms in the air, "Guess!" he exclaimed, flopping back onto his couch.

"It's because the previous Brother Blood would be his father." Raven said.

"WHAT?-!" Cyborg burst out.

"Nope!" Red X said, throwing a single finger into the air. "Grandfather! It's because Mother Mayhem is my mother, and _she's_ the late Brother Blood's daughter." he explained.

"I thought the line of Brother Blood only produced sons." Raven said.

Red X snorted. "Heh, yeah, and if you believe _that_ baloney then you'll believe the one about the Shawl of Christ giving us all great power, eternal youth, immortality, and _not_, as it were, disintegrating after the thousandth washing – which cloth tends to do." he mused.

"You know, I heard about that legend." Malchior said with a derisive snort. "Hmmm, let's see. Prescribing some form of power to a physical object based on its religious significance alone. Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't that a definition of _idolatry_? That's a big, big no-no in the Christian Bible."

"And the Scriptures of Iiam Bormah…" Rorek added in an undertone.

"Right up there with witchcraft and Satan worship, I think. Best to stick with magic, really. That other stuff doesn't always work, and you're in some serious trouble when it does."

"Yes, thanks for the lecture, but you're preaching to the choir. I mean, not that I go to church or anything, I'm thinking I'd stick out a bit, but I'm smart enough to know that my mother is a twisted bitch and the last thing I want to do is get so mixed up in this cult that I'm stuck as the head honcho. I mean, sure they've got a lot of money and everything, but I do have my limits. I'm not even sure I believe this Trigon thing exists."

"He exists. Or existed." Raven stated.

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" Red X demanded.

Beast Boy let out a snort of laughter but clapped a hand over his mouth. Raven sighed. Oh well, they knew about Red X, he might as well know about her. "Because," she began slowly, "He's my father."

"Laan vopruzah dinokmiraad!" Malchior shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

"Yeah! What he said!" Red X exclaimed.

"Shut up!" Malchior snapped. He rounded on Raven. "It took us until just the other day to get that out of you and yet you'll just **tell**_ him_?-! Why?" he demanded angrily.

"Because I do not, in fact, _care_ about his opinion." Raven answered calmly.

Malchior deflated instantly. "Oh…" he said in a quiet voice.

"Um, back up a minute…you're not serious, are you?" Red X asked. "'Cause that's not funny."

"No, it's not. And yes, I am very serious." Raven answered.

"Oh…well…that explains why Mother Mayhem was so interested in you…" Red X mused in a small voice, his eyes still very wide.

"What did you tell her?" Nightwing demanded sharply.

"Not much. Stupid stuff, mostly. Gloomy, pessimistic, irritable, cute when she's mad; that sort of thing. She asked me all sorts of other questions too but I treasure my ignorance of magic – even though the stuff seems to be popping up all over the place these days." Red X added in a mutter.

"I guess you wouldn't know what the Church of Blood wants with me, then?" Raven asked.

"I'd have thought that'd be obvious. I mean, they freaking _worship your father_. You'd be like their Jesus Christ or something, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, _right_," Raven groaned sarcastically, "Fantastic. So do you think they'd listen to me if I told them all to commit suicide in the name of Trigon or something?" she asked.

"Could be worth a try." Red X answered eagerly.

"Thanks but no thanks. If they were going to deify me and do everything I said they wouldn't have drugged me with absinthe and trapped me in a circle." Raven stated.

"Say what?"

She told him what happened at the concert. Or rather, a watered-down version of what happened that didn't include mention of Morgaine Le Fay or any details about the fights. The others listened too, though most of them had been briefed by Nightwing, who'd gotten a lot more detail out of Raven's e-mail.

"Though, now that I think about it, I can't help but wonder how come Fulgorite knew about me and you didn't." she said.

"Probably because Fulgorite was _actually_ loyal to the cult." he answered. "Somehow Mother Mayhem could tell I wasn't entirely devoted. The whole running away and constantly refusing to take an active role in the cult or go through with the Brother Blood initiation rite was probably what tipped her off."

"Naw, you think?" Cyborg snickered.

"Anyway, about that scroll." Nightwing began, redirecting their focus. "Is there any way to get rid of it?"

"Only by using up its power." Rorek answered.

"Let's hook it up to the T-Tower, then. We'll use it up in no time." Cyborg said.

"Not likely." Malchior told him. "If we hooked this up to all of America, using it for everything from charging up batteries to running motor vehicles, then it might run out of power after about a year."

Cyborg's eyes went wide. "You're kidding…"

"I am not."

"Whoa…so that thing's pretty valuable, huh?" Red X mused.

"Priceless. And dangerous." Malchior said, moving over to Raven. "Here, you take it." he said, holding the scroll out to her.

Raven took a step back, holding her hands up, "No way, I don't want that thing." she said nervously. "You keep it."

"Raven, I wouldn't trust _him_ with this," Malchior said, using the scroll to gesture at Rorek, who just shrugged at the jibe. "I'm certainly not going to trust myself."

"But you two have natural sub-space pockets." Raven pointed out. "Mine are all tied to physical objects that someone else could take and use. Besides, didn't Rorek have one of those at one time?"

"Yes," Rorek began, "And saying I did not use it as I should have would be quite the understatement. Power corrupts, and I am not immune to such corruption. I have enough difficulty as it is with the power I already possess."

"But you'll trust me with that?" Raven asked.

"Yes." the both of them answered in unison.

"Maybe Nightwing should take it." Raven said, turning to their leader.

But she got no help there. "Sorry, Raven. I would but…well, I'm not so sure I could keep it protected and hidden like you could."

"No one would suspect it of being the T-Tower's power source, would they?" Raven asked, turning to Cyborg for help.

"Not unless the Church of Blood found out that we're suddenly running on our own generator and put two-and-two together." he answered grimly.

Malchior took one of Raven's wrists and pressed the scroll into her hand. "It really should be you." He released her wrist when her fingers automatically closed around it.

It was _heavy_. Very heavy. She felt the weight in her hand, but also in her mind as well. The thing thrummed in her fingers with power and…words. She didn't hear the words, didn't see the words, but she _felt_ them. She felt them inside the scroll. It was like brail for the head shooting up her arm. It was a very disconcerting feeling. Especially when she became aware of the vague idea that she might begin to _understand_ the words if she held this scroll in her bare hand for too long. She put it away in one of her sub-space pockets. She would have to find a _very_ good place to hide it.

Hmmm…

"You know…I have an idea." she said.

(O)

"Are you sure about this, Raven?" Nightwing asked. He was standing outside the archway of a closet that'd been hidden next to her tragedy/comedy masks, watching her rummage around. He was a little leery of even being this close. Some of the things that came out didn't always maintain a single shape even as they were tumbling out of the box. There was something next to Raven's feet that had looked like a stapler at first and now resembled a dead snake skin. He didn't even want to know what the stuffed green chicken was all about.

"Positive. Azarath is the last place the Church of Blood is going to go looking for the scroll, don't you think? And in its current state you couldn't find anything anyway." she answered. "Daanik! I really am out of crystal sand. How do I run out of crystal sand?-! It's like the arcane equivalent of salt! I have _got_ to clean all this out."

"I _meant_—" Nightwing stopped and sighed. Raven was always putting her own feelings aside for whatever reason. In their line of work that was usually a good thing. But there were times…like the whole thing with Malchior and Rorek…

The pair of them were just outside the open door now. Malchior had tried to follow them into Raven's room but Rorek had yanked him back and now they were silently trying to give each other a concussion, broken ankle, or dislocated shoulder. Apparently they were _usually_ snarling at one another in that dragon language but perhaps they'd decided they didn't really need words anymore and their fists could do all the talking for them. Lucky they were able to repair any damages they caused with magic or he'd be just a bit irritated about all the snags and tears they were leaving in the carpet.

The term 'beating yourself up' came to Nightwing's mind and then took on a whole new meaning.

"Raven, Azarath was your home. I agree it's a good place to hide the scroll but are you sure you don't want to let someone else do it?" Nightwing asked as Raven came out, glaring at a jar that had only just enough glittering prismic sand left to cover half the bottom.

"It's been three years. Besides, Earth is my home now and has been for nine years." she told him, putting the jar in her belt.

"Maybe someone should go with you." he suggested.

"I'll be fine." Raven insisted. "I'm headed to the Wax Ribbon to pick up a few things."

"Can I come? I haven't been inside yet." Malchior got out before Rorek could stop him.

"May _we_ accompany you?" Rorek added, shooting his twin a look which Malchior didn't see since Rorek was currently on his back and apparently trying to knot his arms together.

"I'm just going for a few things. I'm not making an outing of it and I won't be there for very long." Raven told them, acting as though it was perfectly normal to have a conversation with the two while they were currently wrestling on the floor. Malchior managed to turn the tables and seemed to be trying to give his brother a carpet burn on the forehead.

"We could carry your bags." Malchior offered.

"I can carry everything in my sub-space pockets." Raven stated. "Besides, you two would probably get—" She stopped abruptly, seemed to think of something, and a bright smile lit up her features in a manner that would have scared Nightwing to death if he'd been on the receiving end. "Alright, sure! You two can come if you want to that badly." she told them cheerfully.

The twins froze, looked at one another in an 'I'm suddenly not so sure about this' sort of way, and then looked back at Raven's smile. Nightwing, who was just enough to Raven's right to see the smile but far enough back not to be seen himself, started shaking his head and mouthing the words, 'don't do it' in warning. Whatever Raven was thinking up would be nasty.

Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on your point of view) they decided to heed his warning. "Er…perhaps we shall join you another time…when you are not in a hurry." Rorek suggested.

Raven shrugged. "Suit yourself." she said. She wrapped her shadowy spellfire around herself and was gone.

"We'd probably get what?" Malchior wondered aloud.

(O)

As Raven had suspected, the little magical mall was full of young sorcerers and sorceresses crowded in the café. And there were even more today than usual since it was a Saturday and none of them had school to be in. Sometimes Raven wondered what it'd be like to be in school. Back on Azarath she had been given books to read while various experts on the subjects in question augmented the reading with lectures and then drilled her mercilessly on what she read. There had been no classroom setting. Not for her. She was the youngest child the monks and sorcerers had ever taken in for training. She was _special_.

What would it be like to be one of those girls? Where school was normal and magic was something strange, new, interesting, and oh-so-cool right up until you suddenly realized your mother had started using it to get the grass stains out of your jeans. She could still pass for 17, right? Would Nightwing go completely postal if she decided she wanted to do the whole school thing for a year? Probably. It'd interfere with her job too much.

As was usual for this sort of situation, there were flashes of spellfire going off in the general mob as one or two of the girls showed off whatever new trick they'd learned to their friends, fellows, and/or rivals. As was her usual custom and practice, Raven completely bypassed the social areas and went straight for the shops along the back of the store which sold purely practical items, such as very large tubs of crystal sand, wormwood, mandragora, various bits of amphibious animals, powdered flower stuff, all sorts of salts, and so on.

Had Malchior and Rorek come with her she would have walked right into the social area just to watch them get mobbed by fangirls, after which she'd completely abandon them until she was done with her shopping. Then…_probably_ she would have saved them.

Now that she thought about it, though, that would have been a cruel thing to do. Funny and rather satisfying, but cruel. Maybe it was just as well they hadn't come.

She was just on her way back out when Jinx ran into her, almost literally. "Raven! Thank gawd!"

"Um…what? You need something?"

"Yes! Someone's got to put this high-&-mighty little snot bucket in her place!" Jinx exclaimed.

"I'm kinda busy…" trying to get this scroll to a good hiding place before it exploded in her sub-space pocket or something. "Are you borrowing some of Gizmo's lingo?"

Apparently unwilling to take the hinted 'no' for an answer, Jinx grabbed Raven by the arm and started dragging her over towards the clump of girls around the café. "Some hussy's just moved into the city and thinks she's the queen of magic or something! She seriously needs to be taken down a peg."

"Can't you do it?" Raven asked, wondering if it'd do any good to dig her heels into the ground. Probably not. Jinx's anger was giving her an unusual amount of strength and Raven was rather attached to her arm.

"Unfortunately she's actually pretty…well…okay she's _really_ good. But I'll bet the two of us together can take her down! Or at least make her get rid of that fake accent." Jinx grumbled.

"Fake acc—?" And then she spotted who Jinx was talking about.

The girls (and quite a few boys, let's be fair) who usually followed Jinx around hanging on her every word were currently crowding around a young woman with a voluptuous frame, a long maroon dress with flowing skirt and sleeves, and extremely long black hair that was hovering in the air about her person as though it were half in air and half in water. She was very pretty, and in one hand she was holding an orb surrounded by emerald spellfire that depicting an amazing landscape with silver grass, white trees with blue leaves, and in the distance something glittering like some enormous opal.

Raven's fists clenched. She yanked her arm right out of Jinx's grip and stalked passed the confused pink-haired sorceress and up to the black-haired one, who saw her coming and smiled with every sign of pleasure. She banished the orb with a wave of her hand. "Raven! What a pleasant surprise. I was hoping we would see one another."

To the surprise of the chattering on-lookers, Raven's hands slammed down on the table the woman was sitting in front of and she glared, fixedly, into the other's green eyes. "Get. Out. Of. My. City."

There was a sudden silence. Someone tried to say, "You can't—" but stopped when woman stood up.

"I only wished to tell you that my offer still remains." the sorceress said calmly, though her smile and joviality had both vanished.

"Next time just send me a letter." Raven snarled. "You keep your filthy claws out of this city and out of these people or I will hunt you down and we'll see just how immortal you are!"

"Understood." she said calmly. In a whirl of green spellfire she disappeared.

Without another word and ignoring the on-lookers, Raven turned and headed towards the exit. Jinx ran after her.

"Mind telling me what that was all about?" she demanded. "Seriously, Raven! That lady was doing some _amazing_ stuff back there but she didn't even put up any kind of fight when you got all snarly! Who is she? And what did you mean by 'immortal'?"

"That, Jinx, was _the_ Morgaine Le Fay." Raven answered, anger still boiling up inside. How _dare_ she come here, in _her_ city! Raven had thought she'd take the hint. 'Don't call me I'll call you'. But apparently not. What was that woman _really_ after? Were they going to have to worry about her too? As if they didn't have enough on their plate! That's it, as soon as she got this scroll hidden she'd ask Malchior and Rorek to start training her so Le Fay's offer would lose its temptation. "If you see her again call me. I do _not_ want her in this city."

Suddenly Jinx was in her face, hands on her hips. "Alright, let me get this straight: You just laid down the law to _Morgaine Le Fay_, **The** Morgaine Le Fay, and she just bolted without so much as a 'you can't talk to me like that puny mortal'?" she demanded.

Raven thought about this. "It's a bit…deep. It has something to do with…territory. Jump City is my territory which she was invading. She—"

"_Your_ territory, huh? I live here too, in case you didn't notice." Jinx interrupted irritably.

"Yes, Jinx, but you're not as powerful as I am." Raven said in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. "Neither," she said, holding a hand up to forestall the other sorceress's outburst, "Is Morgaine Le Fay." Jinx shut her mouth.

"Alright," she said slowly, "let's say I believe you. When, exactly, did that happen?"

"A few months ago. I'm not sure exactly when. Somehow and for some reason I got an enormous power boost, but would you mind not telling anyone? I usually keep it locked away and you can understand why I would prefer certain people to underestimate me, given my line of work."

"You know, I got a pretty good power boost myself some time ago. I thought it was just me. Are you sure you're more powerful than I am?" Jinx demanded.

"You _did_ see Morgaine Le Fay back down, didn't you?"

Jinx held up her hands. "Alright, alright. She barely did more than give me an infuriatingly indulgent smirk and you're the last person I'd ever expect to boast or exaggerate about stuff like this. But the thing is…you're not the only one. Neither am I. Magic is getting popular and I think it's because a lot of people are suddenly discovering that they've got some power to use while those of us who already had the power and trained it suddenly have more of it. Do you think something's going on?" she asked.

Raven frowned, thinking. "I don't know…" she answered. "It's certainly strange." She'd bring it up to Rorek and Malchior later. "I need to get going. I'll see you around."

"Right…"

(O)

Spoons and sticks didn't always work right when you were mixing things together. Not for spells. For some reason you always got the best results when you used a knife. And the sharper it was the better. Raven wasn't entirely sure why. She'd read several theories on the subject but the only one who seemed to truly understand what it was all about had been a few sandwiches, a table cloth, a box of cookies, and a whole jar of pickles short of a picnic so saying he'd been hard to understand was stretching the very definition of the word 'understatement'. But there was _something_ there, she knew. How else did the knives get dull if all you were doing with them was mixing up liquids and salts and so on? Oh she used her knives for other things. Some spells required that the knife be present or even that you cast the spell _through_ the knife as though it were some sort of very pointy wand. But _cutting_ stuff wasn't always high on the list of jobs a magic-user had for their favorite knife.

Powdered lavender, powdered monkswood, powdered sugar, and a _lot_ of crystal sand was a standard mixture for most circles. The lavender, monkswood, and sugar all helped to create strong pathways from crystal grain to crystal grain so that the magic could flow freely. If you didn't have them then crushing the sand down into dust and mixing some water would do in a pinch, but you wouldn't get as good a result and you'd have to make sure to use big globs. Magic preferred whole crystals, but it was impossible to grow a crystal into the shape of a circle. Of course it was possible to grow a BIG crystal and then carve a hula-hoop out of it, but the fastest method still took several years to get it that big and you only got the one size – which was usually quite small and broke too easily.

Besides, the mixture could be used for more than just circles. Powder down the crystal sand, add a little water, and you could turn it into an enchantable paste or paint. Admittedly it didn't hold the enchantments very well and even the best mixture would only keep its magic for a few days, but it was excellent for small, temporary stuff like making a sign with flashing letters on a piece of cardboard, gluing things together so tightly the very molecules decided they really, really liked each other, and altering certain pigments of anyone whose hair was applied with the shampoo that it'd been mixed into.

Rorek and Malchior were at her door again. She knew they were there. She could hear the thumps and the various hissed whispers of a verbal argument.

"Nightwing said to give her space!"

"I just want to ask, alright?-! Nothing wrong with that!"

"And if she says 'no' are you going to argue?-!"

She wondered if they realized just how loud their 'whispers' actually were.

She sighed to herself and looked down at the circle she'd already made. With another five cups of the crystal mixture she adjusted it and made it bigger. Then she went to the door, muttering under her breath, "I am so weak…might as well use 'doormat' as my middle name…_should_ be getting a restraining order or something but oh no…" she opened the door. The twins froze and Raven decided to ignore the fact that Malchior was currently trying to strangle the white-haired twin with his right leg. "Don't you two have better things to do than follow me around?"

"Mmmm…no, can't think of anything." Malchior answered.

Honestly, one would think she was the only girl on the planet. "You two need a hobby."

"Does stalking count as a hobby?"

"Malchior!"

"Well, I'll give you points for honesty…" Raven muttered.

"So…we can come along for the ride?" Malchior asked hopefully.

"You might as well. You'd have a better idea of how to hide this thing than I would." she answered.

The two disentangled themselves from one another quite swiftly and entered her room behind her. She carefully stepped into the circle and they followed without hesitation.

What was it that made a circle of deep magics different from the modern circle? Why was it that neither of the dragons were so much as batting an eyelash at this particular mark? They probably wouldn't tell her if she asked. Malchior was very tight-lipped and Rorek would very likely share his opinion. Then again, did she even want to know the deep magics?

No, she didn't, because for whatever reason the gods _did_ want her to know deep magic.

She concentrated and began to chant.

_Azarath Metrion Zinthos_

_Carazon Rakashas Enderez_

_Vaserix Endrien Azarath_

_Azarath Azarath!_

(O)

Azarath was a small dimension that had no space vacuum, no sun, no stars, and gravity that was served throughout the entire dimension by a dark nexus far below which periodically produced the floating land islands of earth that slowly orbited one another, giving the dimension nearly half the land mass of earth. It did, however, have an atmosphere, and a thick one. After so long on earth the high pressure and moisture of Azarath made you feel like you were breathing water. It had weather, of a sort. Water tended to run off the edge of the lake islands where it fell down towards the nexus. There some source of heat evaporated it into clouds, which would rain and refill these lakes, keeping the water cycling. They never had any _bad_ weather, though. Nothing like what Earth provided. They also had no sun. Instead of a sun, the whole of the dimension was blanketed with a glowing, heated nebula of soft yellow-orange which illuminated the dimension for 20 hours at a time before lapsing into a 14-hour recharge period. Having only 24 hours in a day had taken a long time to get used to. So had the seasons.

Despite the fact that the capital island of Azarath was built along the same lines as what earth would consider a futuristic metropolis, things were usually very quiet, subdued, and peaceful. Azarath had lots of people, plenty of them simply going about what they considered a normal routine, and plenty of them weren't fully-fledged monks or sorcerers, they just got enough training for levitation, some skills for everyday life, and moved on. Curiously enough things were a little _less_ subdued in the rural islands; those bits of colonized land that cultivated Azarath's food, mostly in enormous green houses where the necessary flora was given a bit of alchemical help. Raven heard stories about some of the wild parties these communities tended to enjoy.

The Citadel of Azar dominated the capital. It was an enormous structure and a true marvel of architecture. It was taller than the average US skyscraper and yet occupied more ground space than any five football stadiums you'd care to name. And it was a city in its own right. It served many purposes: Temple, monastery, library, palace, and, yes, a school of sorts. Within the walls the monks and sorcerers trained themselves and one another, providing various services to the people and, often enough, _becoming_ the people once the minimal requirements of their training had been met for a form of graduation. On earth it'd be the equivalent of a 2-year degree. Though it usually took about 6 at the least.

But there was something about the food and the air of Azarath. Raven had once read that scientists had found the secret to longevity, and it was a high-pressured environment. She would believe it. Wounds healed faster, people aged slower, suffered less physical stress, and lived for a very long time on Azarath. No one born and raised on Azarath ever looked their age when compared to those of Earth. That didn't exactly mean you were older than you looked. It just meant you stayed at any given age for a longer time. In the case of puberty this was not, necessarily, a good thing.

She hadn't aged as much as she'd have expected in her time on earth, though. Perhaps, when your body is used to one rate of growth, said body requires more than nine years for it to take the hint and speed up.

It was good to see her home again, even though it had stopped being her home since Azar's death. There was just one minor detail that was bringing her up short.

"Er…Raven? Did you not say this place had been destroyed?"

"Admittedly there aren't as many people in the streets as one would expect, given the way the buildings are all crammed in a bit close together and it seems no one's invented the motor car yet despite the fact that they have skyscrapers and elevators in evidence. But I wouldn't call this place _destroyed_."

"Well, when everyone can fly and it is a small world, what would be the point of a motor car?"

"Oh shut up."

"I don't understand…" Raven said, staring around at Azarath, whole and pristine in all its glory. Some of the people below were looking up at them, curious, but mostly they didn't seem too bothered. Rorek and Malchior might stand out but Raven's cloak was of the same exact style that Azarathian sorcerers donned (though what they wore underneath was largely up to the individual in question so long as they wore _something_) so no one felt there was need for much concern. This feeling didn't appear to be shared by the Citadel itself. More than a few monks and sorcerers were flying out of various openings to meet them. "It was all destroyed…"

Just like Earth had been.

Oh…

(8)

A/N: So how many shocking revelations was that? Two? Three? Someone give me a number of how many times they were surprised.

Cat: 0. Saw it all coming.

Only because you're able to listen in when I'm talking to myself! :P

Coming up in the next chapter:  
May you be eaten alive by giant rats and then regurgitated into the pits of Tartarus.

Okay, so here's what sucks the most about neurosis, _besides_ the headaches: I've posted 31 chapters of this story, not counting this one. Have received, prior to this chapter, 241 reviews. 240 of these reviews have been full of glowing praises and constructive criticism, which is helpful if one is serious about improving one's writing and trying to get around certain bad habits (Cinis knows what I'm talking about, I'm sure. THAT STUPID 'D' IS THE BANE OF MY EXISTANCE!). And yet out of all these chapters and all these glowing reviews (I love you guys) I find myself fixating on the ONE REVIEW that is unhelpfully negative. It was just one word. "Boring". That's it. That's all they said. Left it as an anonymous review on the second chapter. Didn't even bother getting into the story. Oh I'm laughing about this now! Totally over it. But a few years ago (before the therapy and medication finally got the job done) I'd be crying my eyes out, "THEY DON'T LIKE MY STORY AAAAAH!-!-!" Oh well, can't please everyone! Personally I don't like stories that bombard you with a whole lot of action and drama and don't allow for enough filler to give you some time to adjust. And so I write the way my tastes go. But that's not everyone's cup of tea and I understand that.

They still could have given me some helpful advice or something…


	33. Spill Words

A/N: Lol. Yes, everyone, I know my story isn't _actually_ boring. Why else would you all keep on reading, reviewing, and generally praising my hard work (you guys are so awesome :D)? I totally wasn't looking for any reassurance but it was nice to get it anyway. So thank you all very much!

(8)

_The blade I had been given for my task was strange. It was a short blade but double-edged and light even for its size. Along its length the metals of its alloy swam together in a chaotic dance of dark and light while the metal itself possessed a curious blue tint. The edge was amazingly sharp and did not dull regardless of how much I practiced my handling of it on fallen trees and dead branches. I also found that if I held my hand to the naked blade for overlong my flesh would develop a burn that would blister but heal swiftly after I removed myself from direct contact with the metal._

_What manner of sword was this?_

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 33 – Spill Words**

Patriarch Marlen Zanith, one of the three rulers of Azarath and leading figure of the Citadel, handed Raven a cup of tea. The scent of the familiar herbs sang in her mind as she inhaled the steam. Earth might have far more flavors to choose from than Azarath, but no matter how hard Raven looked she was never able to find anything quite the same as the Azarathian mint. Earth's mint leaves, for one thing, didn't tend to leave you with the feeling that your brain had been scrubbed raw and your body had suddenly become magnetized with an opposite polar field to the ground. Sometimes you needed to look down just to make sure your feet were still on the floor.

"I would offer you gentlemen some tea as well, but this brew tends to have strange effects on people who are not used to it." he told the twins.

"Strange effects?" Stranger than the sensation that gravity was optional? "What sort of effects?" Raven asked, curiously.

"Excessive singing, dancing on various elevated surfaces, and pink elephants. With bubbles." he answered with a slight quirk to his lips.

Raven stared at him, then down at her tea. "What, exactly, have I been drinking for most of my life?" she asked suspiciously.

"Somewhat immaterial at this point, I feel." Patriarch Zanith sat down in his arm chair. "Do sit down. I have a feeling we may be here for a while."

A couch and love seat remained. Raven took the love seat and then, when it looked like the twins were going to start fighting over who got to sit next to her, she gave them a pointed look and the couch a pointed finger. Zanith would have insisted on this arrangement if she hadn't. Azarath was quite a bit more strict about this sort of thing than America.

Malchior looked mutinous for a moment but got a sharp elbow in the arm from his brother and, more than likely, an even sharper thought in the head. He and Rorek sat down on either side of the couch.

Raven took a deep draft of her tea. Whatever it was made of, it certainly helped calm her down and clear her mind. "I thought Azarath had been destroyed." she finally stated.

"I think it was." Zanith told her, "But after Scath was vanquished it was restored again. Do not ask me how. At least five grandmasters and seven magisters have been puzzling over the conundrum for the past three years and have yet to find a plausible answer. Well, there is one that seems to have merit if you decide to think of time as being three-fourths of a dimension rather than half of one, but I won't go into that right now." He took a sip of his own tea and sighed. "We believed you to be dead as well, Raven. After you and your friends stopped Scath your power must have changed. You disappeared from our sight. Even now I cannot quite detect you as I used to. Your very aura is…different."

She nodded. "My power did change. It's no longer ruled by my emotions; instead I think it's focused by them. I don't know why. And…it has increased."

Marlen Zanith had never been a particularly prominent figure in her life. She knew him, but only as a man she saw every now and then and heard stories about. But he had been the one who comforted her after Azar's death and supported her in her decision to leave for Earth. He'd always put her in mind of Gandalf from Lord of the Rings. His white hair and beard were thick and soft but not too long. He dressed in simple off-white robes with a leather belt around his hip that had a single dull gray stone dangling from it holding his sub-space pocket. He had never worn anything particularly ornate or flashy. He'd put on a white robe for official events but little more. Some said this was to extol the virtues of humility. _He_ said it was simply because ornate costumes were too much bother and at an age that had seen multiple centuries he wasn't about to put up with needless frippery.

"How much?" he asked.

"A lot." she answered.

"Enough to warrant more training?" he asked.

"Yes."

"We can train her." Malchior cut in before Rorek could stop him.

"Meaning no offense, of course." Rorek came in with a sharp look at Malchior.

"He means no offense. I could care less." Malchior stated, earning himself an attempted kick in the leg from Rorek. But the amount of space between them gave Malchior too much warning and he dodged.

"Am I going to have to reinstate the 'no physical contact' rule?" Raven demanded, a little irritated because, once again, her words had 'mother' written all over them.

Zanith gave a chuckle. "Well at least you're honest." he said to Malchior.

"We are perfectly capable of training Raven." the black dragon stated. He was bristling for some reason. Did he think Zanith was a threat?

"The subject of my training can wait." Raven stated.

"I am rather curious…" the Patriarch began, changing the subject. "If you believed Azarath destroyed then for what reason did you return?"

"It's…a bit complicated." Raven answered. "We came here to hide something…from the Church of Blood."

A gnarled hand left Zanith's beard and joined its twin in his lap. "The Church of Blood." he repeated, his eyes becoming very somber. "They have returned." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Zanith rose to his feet and strode over to his window. It was a mark of his status that he even had a window, really. In a building this big almost everything was _inside_ and all the outer areas were used exclusively as passageways, exits, or pathways for the ventilation system. When nearly everyone in your dimension can fly then there's no reason why all your doors have to be on the ground level.

"I sometimes wondered what the purpose of Azarath was. We have been careful not to fully segregate ourselves from Earth, and yet our lives are so very different from theirs. Ours is such a peaceful existence that it almost seems…empty, pointless…soft. Oh we do have our own special kinds of struggles; petty things that people find to be upset about because they do not have anything more important to focus their emotional energies on, and only the monks learn to redirect their emotions into a useable force. Do you know why I supported your decision to go to Earth?" he asked her.

"Well, I thought I did…" she offered.

Zanith smiled at her, "Well, whatever reason you thought I had, the truth is that it was because I felt you had the right of it. What are we doing here? Why are we still training monks and sorcerers as though there was anything that we could have done about Scath's second coming? What purpose is there for us if we do not take the knowledge, powers, and talents that we have been gifted with and use them as you have? Yet we have kept ourselves to ourselves because the very foundation of the Order was made to defend the Earth from Scath and destroy the Church of Blood. Now it appears we were mistaken and the Church of Blood is still out there, still hanging on. In a way, a small rather selfish way, I feel some relief. I feel that there was a reason after all. But…this is not good Raven. Not at all."

He returned to his chair and sat down, suddenly looking very tired, very worn, and very, _very_ old. There was something specific on his mind. "What is it?" Raven prompted.

"Scath…Trigon…is not gone." he told her solemnly.

"Oblaanpook." Malchior groaned. Raven felt the blood drain from her face.

"How…how do you know?"

"We could no longer detect your presence on Earth because your power had changed, and so we believed you had died. However…Scath's power is still there. It is weaker, much weaker, but it has been gaining in strength. We cannot determine his location or dimension or even if he's regained a body yet. All we know is that he still exists. And now we know that he still has the Church of Blood…and the other prophecy."

"Other prophecy? What other prophecy?" Raven asked.

"One might call it a backup plan. In truth it's not exactly a prophecy. Something you have arranged just in case can hardly be called a _prophecy_. You know the Church of Blood is primarily under the command of whoever wears the name 'Brother Blood', correct?"

"Yes."

"The first Brother Blood was a man chosen by Scath, not necessarily for his usefulness, but for a slight mutation in his genetic composition that could, with the right magics, become a potent pathway for Scath's own power, even his very soul. All Scath ever truly wanted out of the Church of Blood was Brother Blood. Without him there is no cult…and we believed we had destroyed the last of his bloodline; the last of that mutation. Apparently not. As long as there was one descendant still remaining, the Church of Blood could be reformed. This must be what happened."

"Are you saying that Brother Blood could _become_ Scath?" Raven asked. Azar! No wonder Red X was so scared.

"Yes…however I cannot imagine this being the method that Scath would use since Brother Blood's body, the body of a human man, would disintegrate within a year." Zanith answered. "No, Raven, what he would do is to bind his own flesh with that of Brother Blood and his own spirit would flow into the product of this joining. In other words, you and Brother Blood would be married and your child would become Scath."

Malchior was suddenly on his feet. "And if we were to kill this Brother Blood?" he asked, his voice soft and frightening.

Raven got to her own feet. "We don't need to. Calm down." she told him. He turned his blood red eyes to her and she met them without flinching. His emotions were searing and red in her mind. But she wasn't sure whether to be more wary of him or Rorek. Malchior was hot, Rorek was cold; fire and ice. And Rorek had gone cold, quiet, and as still as a statue with eyes that betrayed nothing. But Malchior was not the only one of them contemplating murder, she could feel it. And the sensation was almost frighteningly keen.

But Malchior sat down anyway, crossing his arms over his chest. Raven sat as well and Zanith was regarding her with some curiosity. "The current Brother Blood," she began, "is, you could say, _reluctant_. We currently have him hidden in the basement of the T-Tower. I think he's been on the run from the cult for quite some time. They managed to catch up with him recently but he broke out, stole something very important to them, and came to us for protection and help. He told us that he refused some kind of rite and isn't actually 'Brother Blood'. I'm thinking this rite is probably whatever magic is needed to turn the mutation into a pathway. We don't need to worry about him." she explained.

Zanith's eyebrows were up high. "I see." he said, considering her. "That is certainly a surprise, and a pleasant one. Unfortunately whichever parent carries this mutation could simply bear another child for the purpose."

"They probably won't. I think Red X would have told us if he had any siblings. Besides, he's close to my age." Well, the age her body was in any case. "If they're going to use anyone it would be him." she said.

"Perhaps…but you, Raven, are not going to age beyond a certain point. You are, for all intents and purposes, immortal. They have time to breed and grow a new Brother Blood." he stated. "And we cannot be sure that the line is dead even if all the presently known bearers of the mutation were killed." He ran his fingers through his beard. "There is _one_ way to ensure this cannot come to pass. And no, I am _not_ suggesting that you die, Raven." he added sternly. She closed her mouth, carefully not looking at the twins. She could feel their eyes on her.

"What are you suggesting, then?" she asked.

"Marriage. Specifically a marriage to someone who is _not_ Brother Blood." he answered.

Raven's eyes went wide. "Um…you're going to have to explain that one to me." she told him, still looking fixedly at him and _not_ at the twins. "Setting aside my own personal lack of enthusiasm for this idea, I'm not sure I can see why or how it would stop them if I were married to someone else. Biologically speaking, you do not, in fact, have to be married to someone in order to have a child with them."

"It is deep magic." Rorek said. Raven looked at him. "Deep and old. The bond of matrimony, two people joining as one flesh, two becoming one, becoming more than the sum of their parts – this is magic so deep it is not even magic anymore. Two, for better or for worse, through sickness and in death. Two is the proper number of a whole. I imagine the…_method_ that Lord Zanith has described to us would not work very well unless you and Brother Blood were properly married. And a _proper_ marriage would not have any validation in the terms of the deep magics if you were already married to another man." he explained.

"Yes." Zanith said, giving Rorek quite a bit more consideration than he had previously. He seemed to decide not to ask, however, and turned back to Raven. "You do still have a fiancé, in case you were wondering." he told her oh-so-_helpfully_.

Raven gave Zanith a look that said, 'may you be eaten alive by giant rats and then regurgitated into the pits of Tartarus' as she mentally prepared for the explosion. She didn't have a lot of time.

"FIANCÉ?-!" they _both_ shouted.

Raven held up a hand to forestall whatever joint tirade they were trying to agree upon before they launched into it. "It was an arranged marriage and we broke it off when I decided to leave for Earth." she told them in a calm, flat voice. And her ex-fiancé hadn't been too terribly upset about that either.

Arranged marriages had, in Raven's opinion, a rather unfairly bad reputation in most parts of Earth. It was common practice in Azarath, particularly amongst the monks and the sorcerers (when they decided they probably should get married sometime or another, that is). But it didn't work the way people believed. Even in the old days on Earth it wasn't nearly so dramatically unfair or barbaric as it was so often portrayed.

Arranged marriages were…convenient. Especially in the Citadel. It meant that you, yourself, didn't have to take time to look for a possible partner and could leave that up to parents who had a lot more experience at the whole life thing than you did. Or, alternately, find someone who made it their very business to arrange suitable matches in case the parents were at a loss. Where people went wrong was in thinking that an arranged marriage meant you didn't have a choice in the matter. Generally you _did_. If you and the guy/girl in question simply did not get along then the issue wasn't forced.

_Usually_.

The bad reputation, she decided, must have come from those unfortunate times when people _were_ forced to get married whether they wanted to or not. Those times when the tradition of the wedding veil had been put into practice to hide the fact that the bride was ugly, crying, and/or heavily drugged. And then people wondered why men had to go to all these lengths to stop their wives from bedding other men while they were away and why the men themselves, in that selective way humans had of picking and choosing their rights and wrongs, were bedding other women. Everything had its flipside, it seemed.

_She_ hadn't had any problem with the guy her mother had picked out. In fact he'd been quite handsome and dedicated to his training as a monk, but they'd had no time to get to know one another and hadn't really had much to do with one another before the arrangement.

Besides…he wasn't much different from anyone else. He'd been afraid of her too.

Malchior and Rorek calmed back down and took their seats again. Raven turned to Zanith. "Regardless, it wouldn't be a completely fool-proof solution. If they'd be willing to wait and breed another Brother Blood then they'd be willing to wait for my husband to grow old and die. Or kill him themselves. Unless you think virginity is a requirement?"

To her slight surprise, Zanith turned to Rorek. "Your thoughts on this question?" he asked.

Rorek considered it, and then shook his head. "No. The old laws state that a woman can be married to a second man if the first has died. The bond would be valid." he answered.

"If the young man simply remained here in our protection," Zanith began.

"And what sort of marriage would that be?" Malchior sneered. "Just a convenient solution to our problems, then. A thoughtless arrangement. You know, it is that sort of flippant thinking that swiftly turns what _should_ be a beautiful thing into something sour and twisted."

"It is not a wholly certain solution. And therefore not worth it." Raven stated. "And if Trigon had one contingency plan then who's to say he didn't have others? The prophecy said that his second rise could not be stopped, but I don't remember anyone mentioning that his third return had such limitations. Perhaps it's time for the monks and sorcerers to put their training to use."

"I could not agree more." Zanith said, smiling at her. "For now, though, I have kept you an inexcusably long amount of time. Arella is no doubt waiting. Before you leave, however, would you mind introducing me to your friends, here?" he asked, nodding to the twins.

"This is Malchior and Rorek." Raven answered, pointing to each in their turn. Rorek nodded politely. Malchior was still fuming and didn't acknowledge anything.

Zanith's eyebrows rose and his eyes focused on Rorek. "Not _the_ Rorek, surely."

Rorek blinked at Zanith. "_The_ Rorek? I am not sure I understand you, My Lord."

"Rorek of Nol…who vanquished the Dread Dragon Malchior." Zanith's eyes went to Malchior. "Apparently someone had a sense of humor. So what was your original name?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"When you were both one person, what were you called?" Zanith elaborated.

Raven stared at him. "You can _tell_?" she asked.

Zanith shrugged. "I'm old, Raven. And I grew up on Earth. This," he gestured between the twins, "is fairly obvious, though only to someone who's been brought up with the right stories. Did you ever watch that one cartoon…oh what was it called? Based on some Disney movie…I use to watch it a lot some years ago but now I can't even remember which one it was. Well, in any case there was this one episode where the heroes went to a region much like China where they encountered a dragon who was also two men. The two men were twins who became the one dragon when they touched, but whether the dragon was good or evil was determined by which twin was dominant. That is about as modern a version of those stories as you are likely to find these days, and it's a fairly old cartoon anyway." he told her. "Two becoming one, one becoming two, it is a very old story and has some basis in fact. Tell me, are you able to join back into one body or are you stuck in two?"

"Stuck in two, I am afraid. You are very perceptive, Lord." Rorek told him. "And we have been like this for a very long time. We did not have a name when we were joined."

Zanith's fingers went to his beard. "I see…and how do the old laws handle that, pray tell?" he asked curiously.

"We are considered as one man by the old laws and the deep magics." Rorek answered. He was carefully not looking at Raven, but Raven could feel Malchior's shameless eyes focused on her and she was very carefully not looking at him either.

"That must get…complicated."

"There are…problems, yes."

Raven stood up. "You two are welcome to stay and talk, but if you're finished with me then I'd like to see my mother." she said.

"Of course. Will you be staying a while?" Zanith asked her.

"No, we can't. I need to go back soon to tell the other Titans what's going on." she answered.

"Fair enough, but afterwards? I think I speak for all of Azarath when I say we would quite like to meet the rest of the youths who stood up to Scath and triumphed." he told her.

"I'll ask them." she answered.

(O)

Her relationship with her mother had always been…distant. She remembered that, when she was little, the brief moments she'd been allowed to spend with Arella had been sought after and fought for with every fiber of her being while the looming and uncaring world of faces high above her decided whether she'd gotten far enough in her studies, had behaved well enough, was meditating every day like she should, whether Arella could be bothered this week, or whether anyone felt like taking her. It'd seemed like the slightest excuse was excuse enough to keep her in the Citadel. So, eventually, she'd stopped caring. It wasn't worth it. Her mother was just…there. Distant. Always that distant figure.

And then, when she was older, people wondered why she never spent very much time with Arella and, further, referred to her by name. Azarath might be peaceful but it was by no means perfect. Humans could be very specialized when it came to stupidity.

There was some love there. Arella was her mother and that was that. But there was also the fear. And, deep down, Raven knew she couldn't blame her mother for it. Arella hadn't just been raped by Trigon. Trigon had come to her looking like a mortal man, had charmed her with hundreds of lies, drew her away from her friends and family, married her (and now Raven knew why the marrying part had been necessary), impregnated her, and then dumped her on some random satanic cult. Fortunately for the both of them some of the field agents from Azarath learned about this and managed to rescue her. But what kind of experience was that for a teenage girl to go through? Not least of which was the idea that you were giving birth to the child of a _demon_. Raven might as well be the antichrist.

And then there were the stones…

The ajna chakra was not a necessary bit of ornamentation for monks, and at the same time it was. It was a tool. It was something like a pulley for your brain; the difference between drawing up a bucket of water with your own two hands and using the pulley to help you out. It was amazing how much easier it was for the mind to focus on the idea of bringing your energy to a certain point (namely the center of your forehead) when it had a marker. You didn't even have to feel it. You just needed to know it was there. And all the monks used this marker method – especially when they were just starting out. Sometimes it was a stone they glued on, sometimes it was just some ink. For Raven and Arella it was neither.

For them it was Trigon's mark. It had simply appeared on Arella's forehead when she married him while Raven had been born with it. That the stones were in the right place and had the right look for ajna chakra was all sheer coincidence. No monk or sorcerer could actually use their power through the ajna chakra. It was not a physical part of the monks and the sorcerers didn't even have them. But for Raven it was as good as, or better than, a magic wand. Presumably the same would be true of Arella, but she had trained as a monk and only just enough to develop levitation.

Raven had trained as both a monk and a sorcerer. That wasn't usual, but, then again, neither was she.

They embraced. It was about as emotional as it ever got for them. Arella smiled at her and Raven managed a smile back.

"You've grown up." Arella said, touching Raven's cheek. The two of them were the same height now.

"Yes…" Raven answered.

"Are you staying long?"

"No…but I might come back. With my friends."

"You mean more of your friends?"

"Yes, that…the other Titans, I mean."

"Will I be able to do another painting of you? I like the way you have your hair now. It makes you look very much like a lady."

"Thanks I…kind of like the way it looks too."

Cue obligatory moment of awkward silence.

"Why don't you introduce me to your handsome friends?"

"Alright, ah…" Raven stepped aside so Arella could get a better view of the twins. "This is Malchior and Rorek." She only _just_ managed to resist the urge to add 'they're twins' as a means of something to fill the huge gap of conversation.

Rorek stepped forward and bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Madam. And this is certainly a beautiful home. Is all the artwork yours?" he asked, gesturing about the living room.

"Yes, they are. Painting and sculpture is a passion of mine." Arella answered.

"You have a true gift, and an eye for arrangement. Is that Lady Raven?"

"Yes, when she was younger. She use to keep her hair very short because it got in her way. Eventually she allowed it to grow at least as long as her chin but she still kept much of it cropped underneath so it wouldn't be too thick. At that age everyone thought she was a boy."

"Sometimes it is difficult to tell a child's gender regardless."

"Not just children. Eh, Pretty Boy?"

"Oi!"

"Not here, you two."

"He started it."

"He left himself open."

Raven sighed and turned to Arella. "They do this all the time. Honestly sometimes I feel like their mother."

Arella laughed. "I think you would make a good mother, Raven." she said with a smile. _'Better than me, anyway.'_

Raven thought desperately for something to change the subject. "Au…Mother, this is going to seem like an odd question but…do you still have my baby teeth?" she asked.

Arella blinked in surprise. "Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

"Something's…going on. A friend thinks they might be important for some reason. Can I borrow them?"

"Well, of course. They are yours, after all. I will go find them, though it may take a while. Would anyone like something to drink before I go?"

"No, but thank you, Madam." Rorek answered.

"I'm alright." Raven said. Malchior just shrugged, which they took as 'no'.

Arella left the living room.

They had flown here from the Citadel. Arella had, of course, been notified of her daughter's existence and had sent a polite message saying that, if Raven had time, could she come by for a quick visit? So they'd flown to one of the towers just outside the Citadel, the one with all the doves hovering about the place picking at seeds and making nests from twigs that had to be purchased from the farming islands.

Raven was dreading the words waiting to be spoken. It was too much to hope that the twins would just be quiet and look at the artwork for the duration of their wait.

"So, about this fiancé of yours," Malchior began.

Well, at least it wasn't about Arella or their strained interview.

"I told you: It was an arranged marriage and we broke it off. We didn't know each other very well." she stated.

"Lord Zanith seemed to feel the contract was still extant." Rorek came in.

_Not you too! _she thought with a mental groan. "Contrary to popular belief, the individuals involved in the process of an arranged marriage _do_ have a choice in the matter. At least on Azarath. The option my still be there but that does not mean it's compulsory." she told them.

"And if _he_ decides he wishes to pursue this?" Malchior prompted.

Were they jealous? Of course they were. Who was she trying to fool? But they needn't be. They really didn't. "He won't." she stated with absolute certainty.

The twins looked at one another and then back at her. "Why not?" they asked simultaneously. _'We certainly would.'_

Okay, _that_ one was…uncomfortable. Two thoughts, two phrases, two _statements_ at once and they weren't being picked up by organs that were equipped to deal with this sort of thing, whatever it was. It didn't _hurt_, exactly, but it was a sort of _almost_ pain. Good grief, what _was_ this?

She forced herself to focus on the subject at hand. "Because, and this might shock you, most boys _aren't_ attracted to girls they've grown up knowing as the daughter of an apocalyptic _demon_." she informed them sarcastically.

"But you _defeated_ said apocalyptic demon." Rorek pointed out. "I imagine that makes you a hero."

"Yes, well…most men also aren't attracted to girls who are more powerful than they are." Malchior mused. He caught Raven's eye and there was an understanding there. One that said, without words, 'It's not much fun being the one everyone fears, is it? You can pretend it doesn't bother you for only so long.'

He understood that quite well, didn't he?

Raven's baby teeth had been saved in a tiny silver container. It looked like a fancy round pill box that could have been a rather large and gaudy locket or an old-style pocket watch. Morbid curiosity made her open it, which took some doing. The little latch was tricky with disuse (well, what were you going to use it for other than to put the teeth _in_?), but she got it open and found all the tiny teeth neatly arranged in little cotton cradles.

"Do you remember me telling you about Earth's Tooth Fairy tradition?" Arella asked. "You thought it was silly."

"Tooth Fairy? What is a 'Tooth Fairy'?" Rorek asked with some suspicion.

"She's like Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. Just something for Earth children to believe in. Supposedly when you lose a tooth and put it under your pillow then the Tooth Fairy will come in and exchange the tooth for money." Raven explained.

"Silly indeed." Rorek mused. "In our experience, fairies do not generally pay for things."

"Or politely wait for your teeth to fall out of their own accord." Malchior added in an undertone.

Arella chuckled. "So literal." she sighed. "Do you know when you will be coming back?" she asked.

"No…soon maybe." Raven answered, closing the little disk. She put it into her pocket. "I'll…see you later then."

Arella nodded. "Goodbye." she said. And they left.

(O)

Raven opened up the chest that contained the small rag dolls, the one she had used to hide Malchior when Rorek showed up. It had been her second choice for a hiding place but now that she knew of Azarath's restoration she didn't feel comfortable leaving it there for some reason. This was, however, a more secure option. No one who dabbled carelessly in deep magics or Blood Magic would get anywhere near it if they had any sense at all. She was pretty sure it wouldn't even be safe for her friends to come snooping in here either.

There was an additional doll now. This one was different from the others. Most of the others had a sort of grayish, brownish tan color to them. This one had no color at all except for the buttons it had for eyes. They were red.

The dolls parted for the scroll as easily as if she were plunging her hand in water. They also accepted the little round box of teeth, Rorek's diary, and Rorek's grimoire, also known as 'The Mortix'. Logically these items shouldn't all be able to fit into the chest without some of the dolls being pushed out of it. But it didn't surprise Raven that there was plenty of room. She really didn't know how many rag dolls there were here. There could be more than she, herself, had – for want of a better word – 'collected'.

She wasn't afraid of them. Not really. But some part of her felt that, perhaps, she should be. In fact, she should be more frightened of them than the Church of Blood. Just because something wasn't evil that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. Malchior and Rorek weren't evil, but they were both very dangerous. You just didn't see it as plainly with Rorek as you did with Malchior. Fire and ice.

Raven picked up the one with the red button eyes. "Thank you." she murmured to it. "For your help. I am grateful."

The doll's head bobbed and Raven felt just a small bit of power slip from the doll and back into her body. The red eyes and grayscale color scheme faded from its little body. Raven returned the doll to the chest and closed it. She heard a faint whisper of sound, like the unintelligible chatter of children at play. And there was the sense of…being watched.

Raven turned around and saw Ru sitting just outside her closet, nose twitching as she gave Raven the most focused stare Raven had ever received from an animal that _wasn't_ Beast Boy. Raven frowned and walked over to the hare, picking her up. "You know, I'm starting to think you've belonged to magic-users in the past. Back when familiars were in style." she stated. "I _know_ my door was shut." she added, eyeing the cracked door of her bedroom.

'_Finally got there, have you? Well you're doing better than your fellows. Rorek is still clueless.'_

Raven froze, and then held the hare out so she could look it in the eyes. "Did you just say that?" she demanded suspiciously.

'_Say what? You're not hearing things, are you?'_

"I think I'm hearing you. Did you just say that 'Rorek is still clueless'? And then, 'you're not hearing things, are you'?" Raven asked.

'_Oh my, you **can** hear me! This is a very uncomfortable position to be held in, by the way.'_

Raven dropped the hare and then knelt down in front of it, leering suspiciously. "_How_ am I hearing you?" she asked. "This has happened to me before and it isn't a very usual form of communication. It isn't even telepathy. I'm not reading your mind by accident am I?"

'_I think that depends on your definition of mind-reading. But in this case I wouldn't say you're actually reading my mind, as such.'_ Ru started scratching one of her ears with a back leg. _'No, they're called "spill words". What you're doing is hearing the words that people almost say but, for one reason or another, don't actually vocalize. Most people stop themselves for the sake of tact, keeping certain thoughts or facts hidden, or simply because they just flat out don't have the courage to come out with them. I'm not actually saying these words because, well, I'm a hare. I don't exactly have the right equipment for human speech.'_

"But you obviously have the capability." Raven pointed out.

'_Indeed. I am what you might call a professional familiar. And the thing about being around excessive amounts of magic is that it tends to stunt your growth. I've been in this pre-pubescent stage of my growth for longer than I'd care to admit.'_

"Tell me more about these 'spill words'. Is there any way I can stop hearing them?"

'_I'm afraid you're going to have to let the ability develop a bit further before you're able to block it. For now, just try not to stand too close to people when you talk to them. Also, if you refrain from looking at them while they're talking to you that tends to help.'_ Ru answered.

"Would you have any idea as to why I'm hearing them in the first place?" Raven asked.

'_Getting involved with the shadows like that would be my guess.'_

"_They_ came to _me_." Raven pointed out.

'_Was I using an admonishing tone? You're not the first that they've "come to", you know. But enough about them. Since you can hear me I think there are a few things I should tell you. Or rather, warn you about.'_

"Anything specific?" Raven asked with a sigh.

'_Ah, good, so you know something's going on. Well, it's the magic.'_

"What about it?"

'_There's more of it than there should be, and it's increasing. Magic is flowing back into the world and I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be doing that. See, one of my previous masters theorized that, as the world grows older, the magic begins to die away. It's kind of like having a body with extra energy. As the body ages it has less and less extra energy. But now there's more than there was a few years ago. Should it be doing that? I don't think so. You want to know what I think? I think this is like an adrenaline rush. Something's got the world, the body, scared and so it's pumping magic in to prepare itself for whatever's about to happen or is happening or something. I'd say it would be about to run, but worlds can't exactly run, can they? So it's preparing to fight instead. With magic-users. Any idea why?'_

"Yes…" Raven answered grimly. "I think we do have an idea."

'_Good, I'll leave it to you human-types then. Something else, though. I've heard tell that the 'Cyborg' person has been a bit grumpy as of late. Mostly random periodic spouts of it, though. Right?'_

"Yes…what about it?"

'_Well, that's not his midlife crisis coming on a bit early. It's a reaction.'_

"Reaction?"

'_Yep. Whatever this is, he's reacting to it. Seems a bit odd since he's not a magic-user. I'd look into that if I were you.'_

"Right, I'll just put that down on the list of things to figure out, shall I?" she sighed. "But before you go," Raven added, "Why have you been mowing Starfire's grass? It's not like she's forgotten to feed you. She'd be really upset about that if she and Nightwing weren't so busy nervously trying to figure out how to tell the rest of us that they're an item now."

'_Oh…that…uh, well…it's…a nervous habit.'_ Ru admitted. The words somehow managed to sound sheepish even though there was no actual sound involved. _'Why is she growing grass like that, anyway? Shouldn't there be flowers or something instead?'_ she demanded.

"Starfire is…Starfire. She likes her grass, okay?"

'_Just tell her that grass shouldn't grow too high and I'm taking care of it for her.'_

That actually sounded like a good idea. Raven hoped it would work.

(8)

A/N: In case anyone's interested in knowing what cartoon it is that Zanith mentioned, it's the Aladdin TV series that I watched all but religiously when I was younger (had the biggest crush on Mozenrath too XD). The episode in question is called 'Opposites Detract' and was the 28th to air on TV. Not one of the best since it didn't have Mozenrath in it, but relevant enough, I think.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
For the last time, Malchior, _no_! You are not allowed to kill the villains!

The whole 'Spill Words' thing actually came from Terry Pratchett's 'I Shall Wear Midnight', which is the most recent installment of the Tiffany Aching character line in his Discworld series (book 38 if you're curious). So he came up with the idea, I'm running with it. Isn't fanfiction awesome? :D


	34. Knightly Troubles

A/N: I have discovered why Vocaloids are so popular! It's because, since they're completely virtual singers (computer-generated vocals – no joke), you don't have to deal with that 'it's all about me' attitude that fleshy people develop. There's also a huge saving on makeup, diet pills, and hours spent rehearsing dance moves that are, instead, programed once and performed with a computer's general lack of ability to do anything it isn't specifically instructed to (and often not even doing that much). Vocaloids are anime characters without an anime. They are whatever the crap the creator wants them to be and there's no risk of the bands breaking up because the lead singer's become a prima donna. Heck, you don't even need a band! Even the instruments are computer-generated!

(8)

_With some reluctance I returned to the land of Elti. I had not anticipated a welcome reception. But, while dragons were not so freely accepted and admired in the lands outside Nahl, the High Priest was still feared and respected and the blade I carried marked me as one of his slayers. If they turned me away then the High Priest would send no one else and the dragon that threatened them would be their own problem. Yet when word spread of my return and of my mission a messenger was sent to bring me an invitation to the castle in which King Yord currently held court. I did not feel I could easily refuse and so I waited upon him only to discover that the previous castle of his reign had been besieged by a plague similar to that which had taken Golt many moons ago._

_I was asked for help in this matter but I refused to give it. I had no desire to engage the shadows again and was even uncertain my courage would see me into the presence of those so potent they had forced a king from his castle. It would also be true to say I still yet harbored some ill will towards the land that had cast me out after a similar service. I preferred to think bitterness was not my only reason for refusal, but perhaps it played a greater role than I liked to admit._

_And so, instead, I made my way to the single mountain that dominated Elti's landscape where I would find the dragon I had been commanded to slay; the one called Iizaldwiin._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 34 – Knightly Troubles**

The Titans did want to visit Raven's home world; the problem was that they _all_ wanted to go and no one felt entirely comfortable leaving the tower empty for any longer than the average mission would take. This was partly because of Red X. He wasn't actually _trapped_ down there in the basement and, thus far, he had shown no real inclination to venture outside his set of apartments. But how long was that going to last? He was the sort of guy who liked a thrill and it was too much to hope that he wouldn't get bored and decide to snoop and/or mess things up. The solution was to take him with them. Curiously enough he wasn't nearly as opposed to this idea as they'd expected.

"When are we leaving? Are we staying long? Should I pack? How long? One week? Two weeks?"

And that brought up the question: How long could/should they stay? Nightwing hadn't even intended to stay the night but it seemed to him that they just might be asked or even expected to. He was also curious about the training these monks had and why it made them so worrying to magic-users.

So they decided to prepare for a night's stay and then…well, they'd see what happened. That would mean leaving the city unprotected. They'd done this before, but, as Raven pointed out, they weren't the _only_ Titans in Jump City. Or the only Titans who frequented Jump City for one reason or the other – though mostly for the one.

"We don't know how long we'd be staying overall, but if we decided to stick around for a while would you mind taking care of things for us?" Nightwing asked.

"Not at all! It'll be a great excuse to hang out in Jump. I've got some things to wrap up here, though, so I won't be able to make it until the day after tomorrow. Is that cool?"

"That's fine. We're not in any real rush."

"And you do think you might be staying longer than the one night, right?"

Raven had to hide a smirk at his hopeful tone. Perhaps the 'once a week' rule wasn't quite enough anymore.

"We don't know yet, but maybe." Nightwing answered.

"Cool, I'll be there!" Kid Flash said with a salute. "Over and out!"

"I guess that means we have some time to—" Cyborg began.

_**BWEEEP! BWEEEP! BWEEEP!**_

"You had to say it." Beast Boy grumbled.

(O)

"For the last time, Malchior, _no_! You are not allowed to kill the villains!"

"AAAAH AAAH! HELP! HEEEELP!-!-!"

"Or set them on fire! Rorek could you put that out, please?"

"Of course, My Lady."

"Or give them a paper cut—how did you do that anyway? You're not even paper anymore!"

"Force of habit."

"Force of habit? What does that mean?"

"My mind remembers the paper and the magic agrees. I'm afraid it's a bit difficult to explain any other way."

"Fine, anyway, I also wish you wouldn't scare them half to death like that either!"

"Why not? It works. I am quite sure that one isn't going to go committing any more crimes, now is he?"

"N-n-no sir! None at all!" Mumbo whimpered, hiding behind Raven's cloak and clinging to her like some frightened child. "Oh look! The police! Well, got to go to jail now!"

The fact that Mad Mod, Mumbo, _and_ Puppet King had teamed up would have been cause for some concern among the Titans a few months ago. It probably would have been a bit of an issue for them only a few weeks ago back when Rorek was still fighting to navigate a spellfire disk. The ground had been covered in white bunnies that turned whoever they bit into Mumbo clones. Cyborg had been alright since apparently whatever magic performed this needed an organic body to work with, but Nightwing seriously needed some kind of jetpack. He just wasn't at his best when he needed someone to keep him in the air.

And then Malchior had set the battlefield on fire. Raven had to admit that watching Puppet King dance around in a mad attempt to put himself out like that had been a bit too satisfying. Still, the way he'd gone (haha) mediaeval like that on Mumbo when the magician had turned Beast Boy into a lamp post was just a bit much. The rest of them had dealt with Mad Mod…whom Malchior would have turned on and finished off if Rorek hadn't stopped him.

"The point is: We don't kill." Raven stated.

"Why not? It would stop them doing it again." Malchior argued.

"Because if we cross that line then where does it end?" she demanded. "The Justice League has seen physical proof of what would happen if we did. We don't kill. We do not have the right to decide who lives and who dies."

Malchior looked at her for a long time, and then he nodded. "Very well." Then he leaned close so he could murmur, "But the governing powers of this time are doing no one any favors by refusing to execute these individuals as they should. Being good is not the same as being nice, and these empowered villains of yours have no right to the mercy they are being given. Trust me, I have been in their position and I certainly did not deserve the mercy I received."

"But you changed." she pointed out. "They might as well."

"Perhaps." though it was clear he didn't really believe it. "But how many innocents must suffer before these few individuals learn the error of their ways? There is such a thing as consequence, Raven. One can receive forgiveness but there is always a price." He paused, his eyes became distant and then amused. "Rorek, I mean, White Knight, is in trouble." he told her.

Raven looked around, and had to bite her lip to stop the giggle. Rorek _was_ in trouble, and it was the sort of trouble that Nightwing often had – especially when he _became_ Nightwing. The trouble was called 'fangirls', and poor Rorek was too polite to simply push his way out of the small crowd. He was, instead, being backed into a wall. Fortunately for him Malchior decided to stride over and offer some assistance.

"Now who's taking care of whom?" The Black Knight asked, grabbing his brother by the back of the breastplate and dragging him towards the Titans. Specifically towards Raven.

The girls followed them.

"We're hiding behind you. Is that okay?" Malchior asked, putting Raven between the twins and the fangirls.

Raven's expression showed her lack of enthusiasm for this idea. She faced the fangirls, who had paused a few yards from her and didn't seem quite willing to mess with Raven too. Well, up to a point ayway.

"Miss Raven?" one of them managed to pipe up. "Which of them is your boyfriend?"

"Neither." she stated flatly.

"Though that's not for lack of trying on our part." Malchior put in. "Can we go now?" he asked before she could think of something to snap at him.

"Would you care to me down?" Rorek demanded petulantly. Raven noticed that Malchior was actually holding him an inch or two off the ground.

"I'm keeping you safe."

"Put me down."

"No."

"Daanik Mahkriiod!"

"Hey, at least I haven't slung you over my shoulder like the girl you resemble."

Rorek punched Malchior in the jaw, starting yet another round of fist-fighting. Raven groaned and put her face in her hands. One of the girls – the one who'd been brave enough to ask Raven if one of them was her boyfriend – sidled over and asked, "Do they do that often?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Raven answered.

"So…they're _not_ actually just the same guy with two bodies?" she asked.

Apparently when you had enough different rumors and theories running around without any pants on you were bound to find one that was actually true. That was a bit of a shock.

"Ever heard the term, 'arguing with yourself'?" Raven asked her. "They, or, alternately, _he_ takes it to new extremes." She left them there and went over to Nightwing, who looked like he was trying to figure out how to get them all out of there with the twins occupied like that – and knowing what would happen to _human_ bones if they were subjected to the kind of beating the twins gave one another on a daily basis. "Let's go. They'll catch up eventually." she said.

(O)

"Bahrahgol! Zu beyn daar ruth vokos!"

"I told you to save back there."

"Oh shut up." Malchior grumbled as his last save point, which had happened some 30 minutes of gameplay ago, loaded up. "At least I know what to do this time around." he muttered.

"You're getting pretty good at this." Beast Man offered consolingly. "It took me a lot longer to figure out what the torches were for."

"Better than Rorek anyway." Malchior mused. "'Oh what does this button do?', 'That turns it off, you moron. How often do we have to go through this?'"

"_Ha ha."_

Beast Man snickered. "Well, you have to admit he's come pretty far for a guy who's more or less jumped right out of the middle ages."

"Perhaps…" Malchior admitted. _"Though you'd have been completely hopeless if it wasn't for me."_

"_Yes. I am aware. Thank you."_ came a petulant response.

There was a pause in the conversation as Malchior breezed through the houses and their puzzles that he'd spent some time figuring out in the last half hour. Then Beast Man spoke up, though a bit hesitantly.

"So…what's up with you, Rorek, and Raven? Some kind of love triangle thing?"

Malchior paused the game and gave Beast Man a long, cool look that caused the shifter to start sweating. But Malchior was seriously considering confiding in someone about this. It was rather mind-blowing that he would feel even the remotest possibility of discussing his love life with, of all people, _Beast Man_.

"I-if you don't wanna talk about it that's cool!" Beast Man exclaimed, waving his arms in front of him in supplication.

Malchior sighed and looked at the pause screen of the video game. "There isn't a love triangle…not exactly…and that is why she is angry at us."

"She's mad at you? Really? She's not acting like it."

"Yes, she's very good at hiding her feelings, isn't she?" Malchior mused. But the last time Malchior had tried to slip into her dreamscape he realized he couldn't anymore. She'd revoked his permission, though he wasn't sure when. And the last time he'd tried to touch her she'd moved away. Then, just a few hours ago, he'd tried to talk to her alone, having found her on the roof. But she'd told him off for disrupting her meditation and made it clear that she would be going straight to bed when she was finished. She was still their friend but…she was still angry.

She was still hurting.

Rorek had faced at least one similar rejection of his own. It had been the morning before they'd gone to visit Azarath. She didn't drink the tea he always made for her. Cyborg had noticed that. It earned Rorek a raised eyebrow but, otherwise, no one had noticed and no one had said anything.

"So, why's she angry at you again? I mean, what did you do?" Beast Man asked.

"There's…a certain aspect to being twins when it comes to dragons. Draconic 'twins' are not the same as human twins, since dragon females can lay multiple eggs at the same time. What we are is called 'Silfron', and it means that we are, more or less, one being with two bodies, two minds, and two personalities. We aren't exactly _one soul_, more like…double-souled. Think of two circles overlapping one another. That's something like what we are."

"Alright…I think I got it. So…what?"

"We did not explain what it truly meant in its entirety…and Raven believed she would have to choose between us. She does not. And our negligence has caused her pain. There is no triangle. To the deep magics, we are one being." he explained.

"Whoa…so…that was a big-time screw-up, huh?"

"Very much a big-time screw-up." Malchior answered. "Any ideas?"

"With Raven? Sorry, dude, none. If only she was the kind of girl who liked jewelry and flowers and girly stuff like that. All she likes are books, and that's kind of a hit-and-miss. The only thing I got her that she ever actually liked was this one really boring book about botany."

"As a magic-user she undoubtedly found it useful."

"Alright, but she likes stories too. Old stories, like Snow White and Cinderella, only not the kind that Disney puts out. The creepy kind where Cinderella's sisters cut up their feet to fool the prince. Hey! You know a whole bunch of old stories, right? What if you wrote them down?"

Now there was an idea. Raven might enjoy some of the old dragon stories and poems. And they could write them in Draconic, too. They'd need some paper, of course, and leather and glue…

"_We could always simply buy a diary and write in it."_ Rorek came in.

"_You buy a diary. I'll make my own book."_

"_We need to do this __**together**__."_ And with that last statement came a big packaged deluge of all the reasons (or the one big reason and all its little fiddly details) as to why.

"You look like you're thinking. Was it a good idea?" Beast Man asked eagerly.

"Yes…I think it was. Thank you." Malchior answered aloud. Internally he said, _"__Alright, together then. But we make our own."_

"_How about this? I know of a place that might have the sort of thing you would prefer to use. If I can find nothing to your satisfaction then we will craft our own book."_

Malchior knew when to relent. And, he had to admit, it would save a lot of time searching for the materials (or suitable equivalents) and then putting the book itself together. Rorek was already preparing to leave, too. _"__No lined paper."_ Malchior specified.

"_Yes, I know."_

They had steady enough hands that they didn't need guides. Besides, lined paper would make the illustrations look very tacky.

(O)

It was very late in the evening. Certainly it was too late for any normal book stores to be open, but Abby liked a late shift and she stayed open on into the night. Rorek was glad he remembered where the store was. He wasn't sure he was in the mood to face having Malchior talk him through using his new communicator's strange map capability (called a 'GPS' feature) yet _again_.

Raven had given him the gift of flight through spellfire, but this…there was no true way to describe how much _better_ this was; how much more _natural_. He was still slightly irritated about Malchior's teaching methods. The anger, frustration, and irritation Malchior purposefully incited had completely spoiled whatever elated enjoyment Rorek might have acquired from his first experience in true flight. You could not compare this to the spellfire method. Oh he was still grateful and appreciative for the time Raven had taken to teach him, but it was like comparing a full course meal to a cup of broth.

Abby had a customer. She was a mildly attractive young woman with short blond hair, a great deal of dark eye makeup, and a rather flat, slender frame. But beauty came in all shapes and forms these days. Abby looked 'round when Rorek came in and smiled at him in that rather awkward lop-sided way she had. "Hello Mr. Rorek. Is Raven with you?" she asked.

"No, not today, Miss Abby. I am actually here with something specific in mind." he told her. "I also have modern currency this time."

"Then I hope I have what you're looking for. What is it?"

"A blank book. A large one with a thick leather cover and unlined paper of decent quality." Rorek specified.

"A journal then? I have lots of journals…though not too many without lines. I'll go check." Which then left Rorek alone in the small two-story book store with the young lady…who was staring at him. Specifically she was staring at his hair. Remembering the events of earlier, Rorek was suddenly uncomfortable. From that experience he might be inclined to assume that the women of this time were stark-raving mad and, more importantly, did not have any qualms about showing it. Perhaps if he simply refrained from making eye-contact…oh Maartuz, too late. Now he had to say something or else risk being rude.

"Can I help you, Madam?" Rorek asked.

"Your hair is _amazing_!" the girl gushed. Only she was not a girl; not a 'she'! And Rorek had heard that voice before…

"…Eric Divan, correct?" Rorek asked.

The young lad's eyes seemed to cloud over with confusion and some small amount of dread. "Um…have we met?" he asked.

"When you were The Great Can't, yes." He'd been wearing pants at the time, though. Just when Rorek thought he was getting the hang of the modern culture, too.

"Oh…" Eric's face fell. "Um, whatever I did or said or…probably…did to your hair…um, I'm very sorry." he said sheepishly.

"_Isn't that the guy who did Raven's makeup?"_ Malchior wondered.

"I beg your pardon, but are you the one who did Lady Raven's hair and makeup some weeks ago?" Rorek asked.

Eric brightened, "Yes, I did! Her hair was a bit difficult to work with because the alternate colors have odd pigments that do funny things to hair like that – I mean, normal products and methods of alteration tend to have strange results you need to watch out for – but her skin is absolutely flawless. Have you noticed? I don't think she's ever had a single spot in her life. Some people just have all the luck. Too bad about the shade, though. Pale ash gray isn't exactly normal so I had to get creative. Not that she needed much foundation, thank goodness. Actually she didn't need any at all but I think the little I used brought her out a bit. The lipstick, though…now that I think about it I'm not sure dark blue was a good choice. Pale lavender, or ice blue might have been better."

"Or…red or pink?" Rorek offered weekly.

"Oh no, not for her coloring. Anything in that spectrum would seem out of place. I mean, with her coloring the last thing you want to do is try to hide it. You want bring alternative coloring out like it's nothing to be ashamed of, which it isn't, of course. Your hair, for instance. I don't think I've ever come across pure white like that on a young man. There's always some tiny tint of blond, but your hair has no pigment whatsoever. It really is quite amazing. I don't suppose I could—"

"I do not allow others to touch my hair." Rorek stated icily.

"Understood." Eric said in a small, sheepish voice. "What about your makeup? Your mascara is amazing but I could do so much with a bit of eye-li—"

"I am _not_ wearing makeup!" Rorek snapped. "My hair is white, my eyelashes are black. That is just how it happened."

"Oh! Right! Sorry!" Eric said hurriedly.

"_Why is it no one accuses __**you**__ of wearing makeup?"_ Rorek demanded to Malchior, who was in no way bothering to hide his amusement.

"_You've already mentioned the reason. Black eyelashes aren't so strange when your own hair is black."_

"_Your eyelashes should have been white."_ Rorek grumbled petulantly.

"_Wouldn't have shown up against my skin, so what would be the point of that?"_

Abby returned with five journals, all bound in leather and all blank with no lines. Rorek inspected them with Malchior paying close attention through his eyes, ears, and even his nose and hands. The first one wasn't nearly large or thick enough. The second had paper that would bleed through too easily, especially if they were going to ink in extensive illustrations. The third had a flimsy cover that Malchior would insist on replacing. The fourth had a brass lining that looked very tarnished and tacky. And the fifth had some water damage.

"_Buy the fourth one. We can rip off the brass and replace it with steel."_ Malchior suggested.

"_The water damage on the fifth could be easily repaired."_

"_The cover looks too cheerful. I don't think she'll take to it."_

"_Mmm…true."_

So he chose the one with the tarnished brass on it and paid in cash, thanking Abby.

(O)

It was late. Very late. Too late. Too late for anything to be on but the same shows and episodes that had already aired during the day. That was fine with Raven since she hadn't been watching the television during the day anyway. Even so she was flipping through the channels.

She couldn't sleep. Again. She couldn't even get a good daydream going so that meant no dreamscape either. So here she was again. It was like that night sometime after she'd first come into contact with the black book, 'The Mortix'. Good grief, what a name. It was alright as a word in a spell, but as the name of a book it was a little much.

She felt so restless. Like there was something she needed to do, but what? Ru's warning came to mind. Extra magic in the world…like an adrenaline rush, preparing for something. Preparing for Trigon, no doubt.

Raven paused and muted the television. No…this hadn't happened the last time they dealt with Trigon. And that time there had been a prophecy and everything. So no, it wasn't Trigon…it was something else. The gods? Blood Magic? All three together, maybe? What connection did Trigon have with the Tartarian gods? Did he have any connection? Was he a servant, perhaps? Or maybe…maybe an unwitting pawn, getting his followers to dive deep into Blood Magic so that world itself would become diseased and the defenses weak enough for them to break out.

For Raven to break them out.

But things weren't going according to their plans, were they? Raven knew what they really were and wasn't going to help them. Brother Blood was refusing even to become Brother Blood. Two draconic wizards from long ago, who knew all about Blood Magic _and_ the gods, had survived to this day and weren't going to let any of it happen. And now the Monks of Azarath knew the cult was still around and Raven imagined Zanith was in the process of getting every Earth-ready agent prepared for the battle ahead. Mother Mayhem was going to have Azarath to deal with very soon. One thing about pacifists that most people don't realize is just how much that denied aggression tends to build up over the years.

It seemed like all the odds were against the bad guys this time. So why did she feel so unsettled?

Raven put the sound back on. Then she turned it back off. "And what are you doing snooping around up here so late at night?" she demanded.

"I ran out of snacks and didn't want to wake anyone up. So I decided to just grab some for myself. What are we watching?" Red X asked, jumping over the side of the couch and sitting just a bit too close for Raven's comfort. She moved over a full seat and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Nothing. I'm trying to bore myself to sleep by flipping through the channels. And that's Starfire's gelatin, by the way." she informed him.

"Don't see her name on it." X stated.

Raven was about to inform him that it wasn't the fact that Starfire _owned_ it which should be worrying him, and that the little wiggly bits _weren't_ made of sugar…then decided to let him learn his own lesson and shrugged. "Eh, she probably won't mind."

"Or notice. Or care even if she does notice. Honestly, do those two think the rest of the world is completely blind?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Raven said in a light tone that informed him she _did_ know what he was talking about, and knew a lot more about it than he did at that.

"Sure, Sunshine." he snorted. Raven glanced over at him and found that the mask had somehow obtained an aperture where the mouth was and he was using it to eat. She didn't see much more than a pair of thin pale lips, though. "Huh, this tastes pretty interesting. What brand is it?"

"In-house." she answered, turning the sound back on. The channel had stuck on a news cast that was going over something to do with a bunch of buildings that had mysteriously collapsed in a city whose name she didn't recognize. A team of scientists and architects were going back and forth trying to come up with explanations about why this might be happening, and offering a few suggestions for preventing it in other similar structures that could be at risk to whatever architectural flaw they'd discovered or thought they'd discovered.

"So, Sunshine, about that date…" Red X began.

"Why don't you go back to flirting with Starfire? She's the pretty one." Raven grumbled.

"Duh, 'cause she's all over _Wonder Boy_ now. Besides, you're pretty cute yourself, or you would be if you'd just smile a bit more often."

Raven turned to him, and then smiled. "You know. I'll bet I could say something that would turn you completely off of me for good." she said cheerfully.

"_Really_? More off than knowing you're the daughter of what might as well be Satan? Alright, Sunshine, lay it on me."

And so she did. "Your mother intends for us, after you've gone through the whole Brother Blood rite, to get married and have a child that will, by way of deep magics, become Trigon."

Red X's spoon dropped into the partially eaten plate of Starfire's gelatin and his mouth stayed very open. Eventually he managed to close it and say, "You win."

"Thought so." Raven turned back to the television, which was now advertising air freshener.

About five minutes later and Raven's bad attempt at stifling her laughter followed Red X out of the living room and down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

(O)

There wasn't a whole lot to do to the rooftop garden, really. It wasn't as though weeds had an easy time getting across the bay and up to the roof of the tower. So it was mostly just some trimming and watering and even the watering didn't need to be done all the time. Certainly not today when Raven finally had cause to wear the skull earrings for the rain-blocking enchantment she could put on them. But there she was, in the pouring rain, with a watering can that was constantly refilling itself from the strength of the torrent.

But Starfire was enjoying herself and giving off her happy beams (though Raven suspected that had less to do with the flowers and more to do with the reason she and Nightwing had both been oddly bright-eyed with their hair in less than pristine condition this morning). So it was sort of worth it. Didn't want the plants to go too long without Starfire-light. They might suffer withdrawal.

Raven just hoped they weren't drowning the plants, though she doubted the plants could be any more drowned than they already were.

"Is this not fun, Friend Raven?" came a cheerful shout above the rain.

Let's see, the rain was making it colder than June had any right to be, they were watering plants that could only have gotten more watered with big buckets, she was having to re-enchant both crystals every ten minutes so she was still getting a bit damp, and Ru had decided to come out with them but was now huddling in Raven's hood, which didn't actually have enough room for the both of them so Raven's own head had been pushed out. This meant that Ru was sitting on her shoulder at an awkward angle, the hood tugging at her neck, and her hair coming into full contact with whatever the hare had stepped in since her last bath. Oh, and she was being very slowly and mildly choked to death while Ru's spill words of, _'Why did I come out here? You two are completely insane. When are you going back in? This isn't healthy, you know.'_ flying across her vision.

Yep, she had to agree with Starfire. This _wasn't_ much fun.

_The sad part is that I wouldn't put up with this for my own mother._

It was getting darker and Raven could spot some flashes of lightening off in the distant ocean. She wondered when Starfire would decide they should probably go back inside. They already needed the light spell she'd created to hover some ways above them so they could actually see the things they were cutting and watering. Then, quite suddenly, she felt the rain lift. It was still raining, and very hard, but only outside the tower now. Not that this helped Starfire, who was happily drenched. Wasn't it interesting how one could somehow be more wet when the water was thrown on them than if they dove into the water itself and jumped back out? Starfire could probably dry off a bit if she took a dive in the river.

Raven looked around for the source and wasn't surprised to find Rorek at the door with a stone much larger than the little crystals she had dangling from her ears. It was smooth and dark but even from this distance she could tell there was a bit of color to it.

"Oh how wonderful, Friend Rorek. Was that you?" Starfire asked. To Raven's relief, Ru decided to leap down from her awkward position in Raven's hood and make a dash for the door, spilling out several words about crazy girls. Raven really wanted to shout out that no one made her join them but managed to resist.

"Indeed. Rain-blocking is very tricky. It is much easier to block everything. However, the last thing you want to do is trap the air as well." he answered, coming over to them. "Though whatever you were using appears to have worked well enough." he added, observing Raven's only slight amount of damp.

"Not that well." she answered, taking off one of the earrings. "These things are pretty cheap, and the crystal's not holding my enchantment. I keep having to reweave the spell every five or ten minutes." she told him, putting the earring back on. "I'm not so sure the artificial coloring helps much."

"Quartz is decent but only when you have nothing better and bear only the most temporary of needs." Rorek said, handing the stone over so she could examine it. She started when she got a good look at it in the mage light. There were glittering spots of blue, green, violet, and even various particles of red in the gemstone. It was as big as her fist!

"Is this a _black_ _opal_?" she asked incredulously.

"Diamonds are the most long-lasting, but opals can carry hundreds of enchantments at once without any risk of their catching one another inside the stone itself." he told her. "And, of course, the larger the stone the better."

"Yeah, but precious stones like this aren't easy to work with. I prefer quartz, though I found that I have a natural affinity for blue sapphires – which are a bit expensive." she added.

"Really? Sapphires and rubies, blood rubies in particular, are supposed to be the most difficult stones to enchant." Rorek told her, looking a bit amused.

"I thought that was diamond." Raven said.

Rorek looked surprised. "Did you? Then you clearly have not had enough opportunity to work with them. They are actually not much more difficult than quartz, it is simply that it takes some time and effort to gain a necessary sense of familiarity. Once this is achieved then they are quite easy." he told her.

"Unfortunately precious stones are a bit costly here and now. And when quartz will often do well enough it's hard to justify the expense." she said. "This, for instance, would be worth far more than what an average-income family could make in a year."

"And I am using it to keep the rain off." Rorek chuckled. "What are the stones you wear on your belt made of? I am afraid I am not familiar with them." he asked.

"Goshenite, also known as white beryl. On Azarath they're almost as common as quartz is here and altering the color with magic is extremely easy so they're popular. Too popular to _not_ learn how to enchant them." Raven answered. "This one isn't, though." she added, tapping the stone on her cloak. "This is actually a Cyborg gadget he made to look like my gems." she told him.

"Ah." Rorek did not press for details and she was not surprised. He was having major issues with the modern communicators and still seemed startled at the fact that his lightest touch was able to draw out a reaction from the screen. Raven was pretty sure that whatever ability he _did_ have to use them was coming from Malchior. Malchior who had been there when computers were first being invented in the first place and understood them quite well.

It was then that Raven noticed there was no more Starfire in the vicinity. For some reason she couldn't help imagining the Tamaranian floating not-so-subtly off and back into the tower with a big grin on her face that would have been not-so-well-hidden behind a hand had either Raven or Rorek been paying her any attention whatsoever. Well if Starfire wasn't going to stick around out here in the cold then she wasn't either. Besides, she really needed to wash her hair.

"Well, Starfire must have decided to go dry off. I think I will too. It's cold out here." Raven said, handing the opal back to Rorek. He took it, though his hand lingered, the tips of his fingers brushing her skin. She felt a prickling sensation on the back of neck and fought to quell it, whatever it was. Suddenly she wanted…what? To rip off his scarf and kiss him, maybe. Never mind that she was completely clueless when it came to kissing. Lip went on lip – that was about all she knew. Maybe she _should_ read some romantic novels, though she felt a bit stupid thinking she could learn how to kiss from books. But how else did you learn? Well, the obvious way, of course. And she was honestly, seriously thinking about it but…

But her knee-jerk reaction when she thought about one of the twins like this was to think, _But what about the other?_ And the realization that she didn't have to choose – and, in fact, she _couldn't_ choose, she _had_ to have both or neither – suddenly brought the pain right back. The desire vanished, and she stepped around him towards the door.

She hated this. She wanted to forgive him, wanted to forgive _them_. It was eating away at her, tainting every moment she spent with them, coloring everything they did for her, and every memory of every hint and act of affection they'd shown her. It had never been too much. The comments, the actions, the gestures – none of them had been too obvious that they couldn't go unnoticed and yet not so subtle that she _hadn't_ noticed them. The others weren't stupid either. But she had kept her distance for a reason that, she now knew, had turned out to be completely nonexistent.

It _hurt_. And it hurt deep. But it would heal with time. It had to. They just needed to be patient with her for a bit longer. Just a bit longer…surely all she needed was a little more time and then she could let this go. Time healed all wounds, right?

(O)

Red X was on the couch in the Titan's living room, moaning dramatically even though Cyborg had checked him over thoroughly and found no surprises. His mask's eyes narrowed into a glair when he spotted Raven. "'In-house', huh?" he grumbled.

"Yes, it was made _in_ the house. By Starfire. Using a recipe from Tamaran." Raven said with a smug smirk on her face.

"I almost died!" he protested.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. I got you to the infirmary, didn't I? Besides, serves you right for stealing other people's snacks."

"You could have stopped me!"

"I decided to let you learn your own lesson."

"You are such a b—" Malchior loomed suddenly, red eyes nearly glowing. "—not…nice…person!" Red X substituted lamely.

He received a glorious lack of sympathy.

(O)

It was evening. The storm was still raging outside but, fortunately, the alarm hadn't gone off. That had to mean it was a natural storm and not the result of some weather-manipulating madman deciding that life would be so much better with a whole lot of lightening.

Raven was at her computer, getting annoyed. She didn't know how Red X had found her e-mail address but if he didn't stop sending her pictures of various smiley faces she was going to hack into his computer and change every color he had on his screen to some variation between pink and white – and then threaten to do the same to the pigments on his costume if he didn't get the message.

Rorek and Malchior had been curiously absent since that morning, though. Usually they were in the living room with the rest of the Titans when there was nothing much to do but today they'd been shut up in their rooms…or one of their rooms. She had wondered why but tried to put it out of her mind. It took a while before she realized their absence was bothering her. Then she felt angry at herself. She couldn't seem to forgive them and yet she still wanted them around? This entire mess had come out in an explosion because they wouldn't leave her alone and now she wasn't happy that they were engaged in something on their own and without her?

She stamped on these feelings because they were irrational and unfair. If she had to have her alone time then so did they and that was that. It was none of her business what they were doing or why.

And now she was seriously considering looking up whatever 'official' fansite had popped up for the White and Black Knights. What was _wrong_ with her? She couldn't stop thinking about them. Oh she was trying but they kept coming back to the forefront of her mind. She kept thinking about things she knew she shouldn't too. Like dragging Rorek into a closet somewhere and kissing him as though she knew how. Or curling up next to Malchior and sleeping with his arms wrapped around her, cocooning her in warmth and the scent of his vanilla musk. Of _their_ vanilla musk. And then she kept picturing them shirtless while she was at it.

That new bit of her, the one with the violet cloak, was responsible for this. She knew it.

But it seemed like they were always somewhere nearby. At least one of them had always been close. And now that they weren't…she wanted them back. It was almost enough to make her go find them and tell them she forgave them even though she knew it'd be a lie.

She wanted to cry again. And she wanted Malchior to hear her and come to comfort her again like he did that night in the European T-Tower. She felt like such a child for it too. She turned her attention back to her computer and saw she had another e-mail. She leapt on it gratefully. Hacking into Red X's computer for her planned pink prank would take her mind off all this.

Except, the e-mail _wasn't_ from Red X. It wasn't from anyone. But it had slipped through the spam filters because of the picture.

Teether and Timmy, wide-eyed and frightened, were huddled in Melvin's arms, though her eyes were bright with defiance and her lips were set in a belligerent pout that would have been cute in virtually any other circumstance. All three of them were surrounded by a circle of what appeared to be salt. Below the picture was nothing more than a set of GPS coordinates and two words.

"Come alone."

(8)

A/N: Alright, so a lot of this was filler, but that cliffhanger was too good to pass up. }:D BWAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-! Aren't you glad it's Friday and only have to wait two days for the next update as oppose to five?

Coming up in the next chapter:  
He'd break you to bits first and then think of some questions to ask later.

To Meowy: That will be explained a bit later. Basically, though, the dolls are the physical repersentations of what is being enigmatically refered to as 'Shadows'.

To Whisper Dark Rose: He's a guy. What do you THINK he took? No idea if/when Raven will find out, though. I just don't see an instance in the too-near future where she WOULDN'T kill him. Lol  
As to your second review: Well I didn't want to steal too much from you (just a little bit 8D) in case you get that firewall thing figured out and decide to post your own fanfiction. I did get some inspiration from your story (the whole fiancé idea was too good to pass up. Not with a pair of possessive territorial dragons over here), but since much of it either wouldn't really work with the way I have Azarath set up or would have been a bit too much additional plot for me to handle, I'm afraid I'll only be using a few tidbits and mix them up enough that if you do write your own then there won't be too much similarity between our stories.  
Really, there is no good reason your security settings should be so high that you can't create an account on a _fanfiction_ website. I'd go online and look into that if I were you. Find out what kind of firewall you have and you'll likely find some forum somewhere where someone has had the same problem and you'll likely find the answer there. I'm thinking, though, that either your firewall or net browser is blocking all your cookies – which is what most all websites use to determine your logged-in/out status. What you can do is tell it to allow first-party cookies, or at the very least put FF on the exceptions list so that it allows cookies from THIS site. Also, these days most net browsers provide an option that will delete all your history and data whenever you close out so you can just turn on that feature and it should be enough. There's also a private browsing option for the paranoid. That's where the browser will keep all your data in a temporary folder that is deleted the moment you exit. Kinda the same thing, but you can see there are plenty of options for protecting your computer that DON'T require having your firewall settings so ridiculously high.


	35. Red

A/N: I get the distinct impression that no one's going to read this so I'm not going to bother putting anything here. Except what I just wrote. And that. And that. And that. And…

(8)

_I do not know what it was I expected to feel after Iizaldwiin's death. In truth I had thought much of the battle itself and little of the aftermath. And in the aftermath I felt cold and numb though the strange blade all but burned in my hands. Soaked with the blood of the second dragon I had slain, I began my journey back. Perhaps some small part of me expected release or revelation. Perhaps I expected to learn what it was the High Priest wished me to. I did not._

_I was not accustomed to killing. Even those bandits and highwaymen who waylaid me during my travels I tried to leave alive. Looking back I realized that this was not a typical mindset. Such avoidance was not a survival trait in the wild, and yet I was of great enough power that I had no true need to kill for the common man was no threat to me. Perhaps I feared retribution for a mistaken murder. Or perhaps, and this was a terrible thought, perhaps part of me thought that I might come to enjoy it._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 35 – Red**

They were _both_ less than thrilled about the siren cry of the Titans' alarm. It was raining too hard. What sort of madman would be out causing trouble on a night like this? But the two of them left the book as it was, carefully put their equipment in a state that would hold until they returned, and left their room for the living room where the Titans were gathering. As soon as they arrived Nightwing rounded on them, his face was ashen. "Is Raven with you?" he asked sharply.

The sudden jolt of fear passed through the both of them, lacing through their bodies and settling in their minds as a terror they were both fighting to keep at bay. Somehow this was a lot easier to do with the link between them so much stronger than it had been the last time this fear had erupted.

"She is not. What happened? Where is she?" Rorek asked, going calm and statue-like in response.

"I don't know. She left her cape in her room so she's not carrying her tracker unit, but we do know where she's going." Cyborg answered, pulling up a photograph of three costumed children with some text beneath it. It looked like some sort of e-mail. The children were…

"Is that a _circle_?" Rorek hissed. Then he looked at the children themselves and felt the blood drain from his face. There was no question about who these kids were. Raven had described them to him in enough detail, but perhaps the fact that there were three of them, one girl and two boys, was enough.

"The problem is, _she_'ll have teleported." Nightwing told them.

They could teleport, but not nearly as easily as Raven and not across long distances. That was to say, they couldn't do it for long distances that they couldn't _see_. They could, however, teleport from one point to another during flight, and do it so rapidly that they could travel faster than any of Cyborg's technological gadgets. The only problem was that they couldn't maintain a continuous chain of teleportation in human form.

Lucky it was storming so hard outside, wasn't it?

"_Where_?" Malchior snarled out.

(O)

Red.

It was hard to explain how thoughts could have a color. But right now, for her, they did. They were hot, and red, and it was like a fire in the mind. Bright, crackling, searing, and a pulsing angry red with the color of burning carbon. The color of blood.

She could smell it too. Old blood, fresh blood, and warm blood still alive, still pumping through live bodies that she found and observed at various intervals before registering that they were not a threat and moving on.

This was an old slaughterhouse district. Much of the old blood was animal, but some of the new blood that hung in the air was human. Part of her registered…what? Suits? Guns? The word 'mob' appeared in her head and was dismissed. The number of living and dead bodies began to recede as she drew closer to her target, silent and alert. She heard snatches of conversation. Words of complaint, words of a threat, words of general boredom. She ignored them. They were unnecessary.

And then she was momentarily distracted. Something new to her sharpened senses. It repelled her but at the same time it sang to something inside of her.

Power, it rang out. Power to survive. Power to end the fear. Power to be in control. Power to do whatever you wanted. Power that rendered all others utterly expendable and made you the only real being in the world. No one else mattered because no one else was actually a person. All you needed was the power and it was all about you. It could be hers.

She smiled, anticipating, wanting…and then something came back to her. A picture of three children huddled together within the confines of a circle. That smile turned into a snarl as, suddenly, she remembered why she was here in the first place.

_**Mine**_

She moved on. Something nagged at her but she dismissed it. It was not part of her goal.

The rain was coming down in torrents. Her hair was plastered over her face and, logically, it should be clogging up her senses. But every sense was sharp and the world pulsed, vibrated, hummed, and sang with scents, sounds, sights, tastes, and, of course, touches. Wet bricks with electricity winding through the walls of a building that was supposedly abandoned. Glass that was cold on the outside but warm on the inside. Voices within, heartbeats, emotions, someone speaking softly and coolly. Another was nervous. She could not glean any more detail than that, and soon the voices stopped altogether.

There was no one in the attic to see her slip in through the wall. It was dark, almost black. But some light was coming through the trap door, which was ajar. She drew close to it, peered through the crack, but there was no one directly below it either. She dropped down into a disused office of sorts. Light was coming in from the glass panes along one wall, allowing whoever once sat here to look out into the factory. The tint of the glass and some small part of her informed her that this meant she could look out but no one could see in. The rest of her did not trust this assumption and so she still clung to the walls and shadows as she slipped towards it and peered out from the smallest corner. That same part of her that told her about the glass brought up another concern and she stared around the room sharply, looking for anything suspicious. She saw nothing, though. This place had not seen life in a long time. But that didn't mean anything if there were cameras. Fortunately her sharp eyes found nothing and she turned her attention back to the view outside.

She did not see anyone about. There was a bit of light inside the building, but only around one area. She saw no living bodies and so she slipped through the wall. She took in the scents, but there was a lot of blood and that made it difficult to pick out any living bodies through her nose. Likewise the hum of electricity was making it difficult to find heartbeats with her ears. They were there, but she could not say how many or where they were. And they were not moving. Not enough for her to feel it in her fingers. But then, there the electricity was masking things again.

The factory space had not seen use in years but it still reeked of an ancient bloodbath. You could not tell if the machines were red from blood or rust. Most likely, it was both. The death of both animal and iron was like a motif. Scent and memory clung to the metals and various surviving plastics and rubbers.

There was also lead. It was a very common metal. It was a component of pewter, solder, was used in paints, some glassware, petrol, ceramic glazes, candlewick, organ pipes, and was even in the glass of computer and television screens as a shield for radiation. These facts slipped through her mind but were dismissed as unimportant. All she truly registered was that it was the one metal that truly sang to her. There was a lot of it here. In fact, there was a large sheet of it up high in the rafters along a walkway. It was leaning against some support beams overlooking the single source and purpose of the factory's illumination. She hid behind it and surveyed the situation.

There was an enclosed control station, like a big metal box with large windows. But the windows were all blocked with either paint, curtains, or some kind of boarding. Paper or wood planks, perhaps. At this distance all she could tell was that she could not see inside the windows.

_They're tinted too._ said that other part of her. It was starting to get on her nerves. It kept wasting time. Even now, the whole looking and thinking thing was only happening because _that_ part was insisting upon it.

The children would be in the control box. She was sure of this because that was what the light was pointed on. There was also a guard standing outside the door with a machine gun, though his stance was far from confident. He looked familiar. Long curly black hair…he wasn't wearing a shirt, just a pair of black jeans with a red and black jacket tied around his waist. He didn't even have any shoes on. It was that later observation, more than anything else, that told her who he was. He was someone who didn't need shoes, or armor. His own skin was armor enough. She wondered what would happen if she raked her nails across it. Would it screech like a chalkboard?

Slipping from shadow to shadow, she drew closer. Close and silent and intent on any discord or sense that would tell her where the other or others were. He couldn't possibly be alone, after all. Oh no. He wouldn't be doing this if he had a choice in the matter because the closer she got the sharper his fear became in her mind. He had no confidence whatsoever in his machine gun. In fact she had the sense that he had been told not to use it unless any uninvited guests arrived. But it was the _invited_ guest he was afraid of.

She drew near with a predatory smile on her face, a smile that turned into a snarl as she picked up more fear that did not belong to Fulgorite. Three small bodies within the control box. All of them very frightened.

_**Mine.**_

"**Now I see why I was told to come alone,"** she whispered from the shadows. Fulgorite jumped and pointed his machine gun at the place he thought she was. He was shaking madly, though, and would be more likely to shoot anything _but_ whatever he thought he was aiming at. **"****If Malchior was here he'd break you to bits first and then think of some questions to ask later. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do the same."**

"Who—who's there?-!" he gasped out. "I've got a gun!"

She made a sharp gesture with her hand and the machine gun was yanked out of his arms. It crushed into a useless mass of metal and gunpowder and dropped at Fulgorite's feet.

"**That's why you use absinthe against magic-users and not guns. Not that the absinthe did much against me, did it?"** She stepped out of the shadows. If there was any actual blood in Fulgorite's skin then it would have drained from his face as he backed up against the door of the control room. It wasn't a very smart move. He was obviously terrified but he was still keeping himself between her and her goal. She gave him a smile. She had no fangs, but she _looked_ as though she should. **"What's the matter, Glass Man? I thought you said normal girls were boring. Suddenly decided you like boring, did you?"** she asked sweetly, moving slowly forward.

"Wait! It's not what you think, I swear!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up.

"**Isn't it? Where are your friends?"** she snarled.

"It's not the Church of Blood!" he sputtered out desperately. "The kids are fine! It's not even a proper circle; you were only supposed to think it was so you'd come alone! I left the cult just like Malchior told me to! He just wanted to get your attention!"

He was telling the truth. She could feel it, and something about his words didn't tally. But that was the annoying part of her mind again. The part that was wasting her mental power with so much analysis and she couldn't seem to get rid of it. Even this talking thing belonged to that part. What was the point of talking? Why not just rip the man to bits and retrieve the children now?

"**Well then, ****I would strongly suggest you go and get this 'he' you mentioned before I rip your throat and use the shards of your skin to pick my teeth because, right now, **_**you're**_** the one with my attention, Glass Man."** she told him.

"No need." said a smooth, familiar voice. "I'm right here. I admit, I didn't honestly expect you to come alone." A figure, an all-too familiar one, stepped out from the shadow of the control box and gave her a once-over. "Though I suspect you didn't feel as though backup would be necessary. So, am I talking to the demon, now?" he asked.

She grinned. That is to say, she showed her teeth. **"****Demon? Me? You're the one holding children hostage."**

"Don't worry, they're safe. Though I chafe at the implication that they are at all helpless. One of them produced something a young girl shouldn't even see much less _imagine_ and another took off Fulgorite's middle finger with his _teeth_. Lucky my – what did you call him? – 'Glass Man', heals so easily."

"**I'll do more than that with **_**my**_** teeth if they're hurt."** she snarled.

Slade's one visible eye widened a bit. "My, my. Is this the same Raven I used to know and love? Three years is a long time indeed. But they are not hurt…mostly. A few smacks were necessary for…discipline." She began to growl low in her throat. Slade held his hands up, "Really, Raven, you should be thanking me. I'm sure you came here thinking it was the Church of Blood that had taken them, correct? Don't think the idea hasn't crossed their minds. Better me than them, don't you agree?"

The thoughts that rose with this statement were not welcome in the slightest. She had come here to kill and retrieve. There wasn't supposed to be this…complication. Yes, Slade was better than the Church of Blood. But by how much? And what did he want?

Questions again. Why bother? She should just rip them both to pieces and let that thinking part of her handle the questions afterwards.

She decided to adjust to this by redirecting the questions. **"Why is he here?"** she demanded, indicating Fulgorite with a toss of her head.

"Well, Fulgorite _used_ to be a very dedicated member of the Church of Blood. But whatever your charming young man said to him certainly had him running the other way." Slade told her.

"**Oh? As far as I know all Malchior told him was that he'd burn him alive the next time he saw him."** she stated, eyeing Fulgorite. He seemed to have relaxed a bit now that Slade had her attention, but not much. He was looking ill now.

"R-Rouge tossed me not half a mile from the stadium and kept running. I managed to find some rocks to patch myself up with…and then he found me." he admitted. "T-told me things…about that Blood Magic the cult likes so much. T-told me that…in the old days…anyone caught associating knowingly and willingly with Blood Magic and its practitioners gave up any and all rights they had to their own life. Back then, he'd have k-killed me anyway. And he was going to! But he told me he'd let me live if I swore to help destroy them."

"And guess who was the first person he thought to go to." Slade chuckled. "I really must thank Malchior for the gift. Fulgorite's information has been invaluable. He was a bit of a favorite in the cult."

"**And his assistance capturing my children?"**

"A bit fixated, are we? Aren't you going to ask me why I went to all this trouble to lure you out here on your own?"

"**Honestly? I could care less. I'm only here for my kids and if the way to them is with a big gaping hole where your heart used to be then so much the better."**

"I will return them to you, but first I have a curiosity to satisfy." he told her.

"**Oh yes?"**

She didn't see it coming. There was no warning, none at all. Not even to her sharp instincts. The same instant the Mark of Scath burned on Slade's forehead he let loose a blast of demonic fire that hit her square in the chest. She let out a snarl but…there was no pain. No burning, no damage, nothing. Just an almost pleasant warmth. This caught her so off guard, even more than the blast itself, that she was frozen by the confusion. She stared down at her suit in an attempt to find the damage, to find where the pain _should_ be and wasn't. All she saw were the glowing red birthmarks that had not reappeared since her father's defeat.

Slade was chuckling. "I thought so." he said, the Mark of Scath still burning on his forehead.

Questions, wild questions, confusions, and fears rose up in her mind. Questions connecting to memories, to knowledge, to what she'd thought to be true but could not come to terms with here were all whirling about and taking up too much time, too much thought. Parts of the mind better suited for analyzing her senses were being sequestered for this useless task and she let out a snarl of frustration at her own head. But just as the one calling itself 'Raven' could never be rid of the one she called 'The Other', The Other could not be rid of Raven. The Other, however, did not have the discipline of Raven. What The Other _did_ have was rage, rage that it used to swallow up the thoughts and focus her objective into one sharp, clear intent: _**Kill.**_

Before she could launch herself at Slade, however, something black and gold flashed into sight and tackled him to the ground. In the same second the figure was blasted off with Slade's demon-born fire powers and _this_ time the blast did damage. The figure let out a cry of pain and was thrown into the rafters.

_Malchior._ came the thought.

The Other let out an inhuman shriek and dove for Slade, black claws sharp and strong and reaching out to cut through his armor, his flesh, any part of him she could reach. He dodged her, but before her trajectory could slam her into a support pillar she brought up her legs and leapt back off the surface, barreling towards the so-called 'man'. She punched, kicked, swung, twisted, dodged, slashed, rolled, and kept coming. But Slade was always deflecting, always dodging, always just out of her reach, and hitting her with far more frequency. She could barely manage to get in with so much as a touch.

"Not bad for someone who usually fights with magic rather than fists. Has Robin been giving you some lessons?" Slade asked. He rolled around her and unleashed another blast of fire, though not at her. She heard Malchior scream in pain and hit something hard up high. She whirled around in time to watch him drop.

_**Mine.**_

She launched herself at him, catching him in the air and managing to dodge out of the way just as another blast of fire headed for them.

"Daanik. Since when did humans get hellfire?" Malchior rasped as she took him behind the sheet of lead alloy. She smelled the blood under his armor, saw it seeping from the pores around his eyes and across his forehead. He was shaking, he couldn't even sit up. There was a lot of pain.

"**You're not allowed to die."** she told him, licking at the blood on his forehead, wanting to soothe some of that pain.

"It'll take more than a little hellfire to kill me, Love." he told her weakly. But he was in no condition to continue fighting at the moment, she could tell.

"**Good."** She laid him down and launched herself back out of the covered area, soaring down towards Slade. He shot blasts at her but she dodged. And then she dodged again as some of the blasts _bounced_ off bits of the factory even though most of them found something to destroy. One blast managed to hit her but it did nothing but fill her with that strange warmth. Her birthmarks were already glowing and too vivid for even the black of her costume to hide them.

She punched, he caught her fist, but did not anticipate her strength and lost his balance, falling hard against an indistinct part of the slaughterhouse. She grabbed him at the base of his neck, her claws digging into his armor and picking him up to slam him against an iron support beam, snarling as she did so. When she was satisfied that he was too dizzy to fight at the moment, she held him so that their faces were only inches apart, her teeth bared.

"**This city is **_**mine**_**. These children are **_**mine**_**. The twins are **_**mine**_**. How dare you threaten what is **_**mine**_**. How dare you touch what is **_**mine**_**! How dare you damage what is MINE!"** She all but shrieked that last part, banging him against the pole again for good measure.

Slade held his hands up in supplication. "Understood, Raven. Understood." he said. But there wasn't nearly enough fear in his words for her liking. "It won't happen again. But I don't suppose there is any way for me to speak to the _other_ Raven? The one who thinks a bit more clearly? Despite our history I am not your enemy in this matter." he told her calmly. But she was only half listening. Something else had caught her attention. "What is it? What do you sense?" Slade asked.

It was that scent. That repulsive yet beguiling scent of potency, the call of power and all the gifts it could bring. And she _wanted_ it. She dropped Slade and looked around, a smile of eager anticipation on her lips. That power would be _hers_.

And then she saw the source of the scent. He was standing high up just beside the sheet of lead. And he had Malchior, who appeared to be struggling from some sort of garrote that the burgundy-dressed cultist was holding in one hand.

_**Mine.**_

All at once the want became rage and the smile became a snarl of fury.

The cultist waved at her. "Afraid I do not know how best to address a goddess." he greeted in a calm, clear voice. "There are specific ways to refer to queens, princesses, duchesses, baronesses, and so on, but nothing for a goddess. Would 'My Lady' be acceptable?" he asked.

'My Lady'…she was used to hearing such a title from a far more welcomed individual. Part of her wondered where that other individual was but most of her was focused on the man with her dark dragon, weakened by Slade's hellfire, in his grasp. She snarled.

"No? Mistress, then. I apologize for this," he began, gesturing to Malchior with his free hand, "But we need something to trade for Sister Fear. It was going to be the children, but Master Slade got to them first."

A blast of hellfire was thrown directly at the cultist, who only had just enough time for his face to register surprise and terror before he leapt back behind the sheet of lead to dodge it. He was forced to release Malchior in the process and the hellfire hit the dragon, sending him flying off the walkway where he was once more falling without enough strength to save himself. With a scream Raven was after him again, tearing through parts of the factory in order to get to him as quickly as possible. _Before_ he fell directly into an inert but still-jagged meat grinder. He was shaking violently in her arms so he was still alive, but so very weak and in so much pain. She let out a pained whine as she found somewhere else to lay him down, and then looked up in time to see an enormous ball of hellfire head directly for the lead sheet. She _screamed_.

Later on she would never quite understand how she knew what was going to happen. But, as she'd once told Nightwing, there was some psychic quality to instinct that most people ignored in favor of logic. In her current state instinct was far stronger than logic, and instinct had known _exactly_ what that blast of hellfire was going to do even though logic wouldn't have been able to puzzle it out.

Instinct was right.

But she could not move fast enough; could not fly fast enough. Even when she grabbed at bits of the factory and tried to use them to propel her forward with more force. Time seemed to slow down. She could have sworn it _did_ slow. But even so she did not get there in time.

The blast of hellfire did not destroy the lead sheet. Instead it _bounced_. It bounced and shot straight for the control box. Which it destroyed.

The Other _howled_. The pain was blinding, her eyes burned with tears, tears mixing with the soaked hair that was plastered over her face. The factory shook with the force of her anguish as she let it out into a bone-chilling, soul-searing _screech_ that rose above the roar of the storm and was not so much heard as _felt_ by the entire area. The resident mobsters, even the ones who weren't very superstitious, cleared out _immediately_.

Bits of factory clattered and clanged and jangled as the building shook. But before the din had died down The Other already had a new agenda.

_**Kill.**_

The lone cultist was peering around the corner of the lead sheet and did not see her shooting up behind him until it was too late. He wore no armor, but that would not have mattered. In one swift movement she had his heart and a few other bits of organ, muscle tissue, and even some bone clutched in her hand. She dug her nails into the organ and popped it like a balloon. It splattered, covering her in the warm red liquid. But she didn't care. The kill hadn't brought her any satisfaction or sense of release from the unbearable pain. She let out another howl and launched herself after the second guilty party. Surely when she killed him too then the pain would cease! She landed and shot forward towards him with every intention of tearing off his neck.

Suddenly she was stopped. A familiar bow staff caught her outstretched hand, smacked it up, and then used the moment of disorientation to shove her back so she stumbled and slipped. But she caught herself and flipped back onto her feet, snarling at the newcomer.

_Nightwing._

The snarl died. This was not her enemy. This was her friend, someone to protect. She could not strike him, but he was blocking her way!

"Don't do it, Raven." Nightwing said. "Look, look over there!" Still holding up the bow staff with one hand, he used the other to point at the wreckage of the control box. She looked, and at first she could not comprehend what she was seeing.

There was a bubble of strange white energy (_spellfire_). It was translucent and familiar. Inside was her light dragon and…her children. Protected from the rubble by the bubble, they were being lifted up out of the wreckage and over to solid ground.

_**Alive.**_

"Raven!" Melvin cried out. She bolted forward as soon as the spellfire let her go and the other two followed. Rorek made to stop them but he was too late. And anyway, _they_ didn't care that she had four glowing red eyes, strange markings, or was covered in blood. That was just as well. The Other really _would_ have struck anyone and anything that tried to stop them. They latched on to her and she knelt to hold them tightly, protectively, reassuring herself that they really were still alive.

Timmy and Teether were both crying. Melvin tried not to but she did it anyway, her arms wrapped tightly around Raven's neck while the other two were latched onto various areas of her waist.

Nightwing rounded on Slade, who now found himself suddenly surrounded by the last four Titans. Not that he was in any condition to fight or run. "Alright, Slade. You have some explaining to do." Nightwing growled.

"In my defense, I did not anticipate that course of events. I do not know why my power destroys some metals but bounces off others, and I certainly did not intend for that to happen. I was trying to kill Father Sorrow up there." Slade explained. "Seems Raven took care of that, though."

"You're lucky Rorek saved them." Nightwing stated with hostility. "Otherwise I _wouldn't_ have stopped her."

"Understood, Robin."

"_Nightwing_." Nightwing corrected him. "It's _Nightwing_ now."

"Sorry. Old habits die hard."

Rorek floated back to the scene with Malchior over his shoulder. He was moaning in pain, but that meant he was alive.

"I'm impressed." Slade said, eyeing the twins. "Not even the cult's higher-ups can survive more than one hit from my new power, much less three." he said.

Rorek pinned him with a look full of cold fury. "Hellfire is not a toy, human. I don't even want to know how you got it either."

"Friend Malchior!" Starfire exclaimed, flying over to them. "Are you alright?-!"

"Peachy." Malchior coughed out. "Unfortunately such a color is not necessarily normal for me."

"Would you mind taking this a bit more seriously?" Rorek demanded as he and Starfire slowly lowered Malchior to the ground.

The kids had stopped crying and calmed down by now. The Other stood up, but they crowded around her, clinging to her and glaring with some scrutiny at Slade as if trying to find some sign that the blood she was covered in had come from him. They were obviously disappointed when they saw no evidence for this.

"Told you Waven would get you." Timmy said.

The Other was still touching them, alternating her hands between the three of them as she stroked hair and felt shoulders in order to assure herself that they were still alive. Alive and safe. Yes. Alive. Saved. By Rorek.

"You guys alright?" Beast Boy asked, coming over to inspect the kids, though he gave The Other a very nervous glance. But she wasn't paying much attention to him. She gave each child one last touch for self-assurance as she disentangled herself from them and strode purposefully over to Rorek, who had stood up after a grumpily muttered verdict of, 'you'll live' directed at his brother.

He had just enough time to see The Other in front of him before she grabbed him by the scarf, at once pulling it down off his face and using it to yank him forward.

She kissed him. Directly on the lips. And it wasn't just a peck or a simple lip-on-lip touch either. It was a _real_ kiss. Mouth slightly open, head tilted for better purchase, lips working and wanting and vicious and feral. Instinct and supreme self-assurance took the place of experience and could probably be said to be doing a better job of it at that. There was plenty of heat and quite a bit of tongue action that had been read about which this side of her had always wanted to try – particularly with a certain pair of dragons in recent months. She registered his taste, his scent, the hitch of his breath…

She was kissing him _right in front of absolutely everyone_. Raven was going to regret this later but The Other flat out did not care.

"EEEEEEEW!-!-!" Timmy and Melvin shouted together while Teether asked Beast Boy what was going on.

(O)

Raven moaned.

She had a splitting headache. Best to start there and somehow work her way through the fog of what had to be the hardest sleep she'd had for a long time. She had a headache, her name was Raven, and last night…

She remembered…red.

Okay, okay, start from the beginning. The e-mail. She'd gotten the e-mail and then…what? She'd yanked off her cloak but she wasn't sure why. Oh, right, the tracker. Only, she had the feeling that she'd just pulled it off because she knew she'd have a job being stealthy with a white cloak. Besides, it'd get in her way.

Rain…she'd been soaking wet. Her thoughts red and sharp and focused like a sword. Her body had sequestered her power for physical strength rather than her usual spellfire because spellfire required more thought and focus than _it_ felt she should sacrifice for such a purpose. Fists and claws and teeth…

She'd killed someone. Someone called Father Sorrow. A cultist. A Blood Magic practitioner. There had been no guilt then, and even now she couldn't seem to muster up any feeling of remorse for the death. She felt she should…and then her mind brought to her the pictures she'd seen of the three dead people, their bodies drained of blood. Killing a murderer wasn't murder. Killing someone who stole blood for power wasn't murder.

Still, she should feel _something_, shouldn't she?

She didn't. But perhaps when the shock faded.

Alright, what next? She'd thought the kids were dead but they weren't. She almost killed Slade…and she'd _kissed Rorek_. Not just kissed either. And she'd done it with _everyone watching_.

Was it possible to die of embarrassment? She was probably about to find out.

There were three warm bodies clinging to her. Two of them were being clutched in either arm while the last was curled around her leg. Blankets were all over the place but something was usually covering something and there was warmth enough to go around.

Right, she'd insisted that the kids stay with her. There'd been some desultory talk of fixing them up on the living room couch, she'd snarled, and it died immediately.

Besides, Slade was in their magically fortified prison where they'd been prepared to keep Rorek when he first appeared. It felt like a lifetime ago. But with Slade in the building she wasn't going to let the kids out of her sight. Or, at least, out of her room.

But Slade was gone now. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she knew. He'd escaped during the night and it was only a matter of time before Nightwing found him missing.

There was something…some question that had been asked but she didn't know when.

"_Red X told us you were working against the Church of Blood. Why?"_

"_Oh, so he did get to you, did he? Tell me, how's he doing?"_

"_Fine, but you haven't answered—"_

"_A clash of professional interests, Robin."_

"_Nightwing!"_

"_Last time when the world was about to be destroyed there was nothing anyone could do about it until after the fact. This time I aim to keep the world in-tact. My reasons are purely selfish. I want to stay alive. And the thing about saving the world is that you can't save it for only yourself. You have to save it for everyone else, too. Satisfied?"_

"_I still don't trust you."_

"_I'm not asking you to. But I would deem it a personal favor if you would keep Red X well-hidden."_

"_Why? Because he's the next Brother Blood?"_

"_Yes, that too."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Oh Robin, haven't you figured it out, yet? Red X, Sebastian, is my son."_

"_**WHAT**?-!"_

"_Yes, you could say his mother and I are having a few…marital issues and the divorce isn't working out too well because neither of us are at all willing to split the custody rights."_

Okay, _whoa_. Just _whoa_.

Needless to say Red X had _not_ been informed of Slade's stay in the Tower. At least not yet.

So…Slade and Mother Mayhem…Sweet Maartuz…Raven felt like her head had simply _exploded_ from the very idea.

Still, _marital_ issues? Did that mean they'd been _married_? Or still _were_ married? How did the deep magics handle divorce? Point of fact, was it necessary for the new Brother Blood generation to be born within wedlock? Must be, otherwise why would the cult bother with marriage at all? It was a comforting thought. It meant that it was unlikely there were a whole lot of bastards running around who could make possible replacements for Red X. It also meant that, so long as Slade was alive and hanging back, Mother Mayhem couldn't bear any more children _within_ wedlock (needed a husband for that) and raise them to marriageable age. And even if deep magics _did_ handle divorce in some way, Slade could simply refuse to acknowledge that the marriage was broken. Right? She'd have to ask Rorek about that.

But good _gawd_! How did that even happen in the _first place_?-! It was just…augh! She didn't even want to _think_ about it!

Rorek…she'd _kissed Rorek_. What the _hell_ had she been thinking?-!

Well, he'd saved the kids. A kiss was the least she could give him, but she was pretty sure she hadn't been thinking of rewarding him so much as simply _wanting_ to kiss him for it. Alright, that was okay, she could accept that.

But why did she have to do it right then and there?-! While _everyone_ (including Slade, for the love of Maartuz) watching!

It was almost enough to make her seriously consider going back to being The Other. No one had dared make a single teasing remark when The Other was there to glare at them through four glowing red eyes. Poor Rorek had probably been teased something awful as soon as she was out of the picture, though. She wondered if he'd care. She tried to remember how he'd acted after the kiss but it seemed as though all her attention had been mainly focused on the kids, _her_ kids, and Slade, the threat.

Fulgorite had been nowhere to be seen. Most likely he had bolted the instant Malchior showed up.

Teether was chewing on something in his sleep. He was _always_ chewing on something, even though all his teeth had come in. They were incredibly strong teeth. The monks had yet to find anything they _couldn't_ bite through and then spit out with a force that was becoming increasingly more powerful. At this rate he was probably going to get a name like 'The human gun' or 'Gunman'. Yes, 'Gunman' had promise. 'Gunboy' at first, though. You had to grow into the 'man' part, and it took a while.

Timmy Tantrum was quite obviously the next Black Canary, though his hair was red and he was still clinging to that blue blanket. Raven wondered if any of the other kids dared tease him about it. Probably 'Black Canary' wasn't a good name for a boy. Hm…Gale? As in 'Nightingale'. Red Gale, maybe? They'd come up with something.

As for Melvin…she was, without a doubt, one of the most powerful of the youngest generation in super heroes to date. She had long ago relinquished Bobby and had gone on to…other 'friends'. Raven _still_ wanted to know who the bloody hell had let her watch _Silent Hill_. She wanted to show them what happened when you took a child who could, quite literally, unleash her imagination into reality itself, allowed them to look at all those monsters, and – instead of scaring her – wound up turning her into a fan of the horror genre. She had already replaced her white and pink costume for something in black and red, was no longer wearing her hair in pigtails, and _might_ have colored it black if Raven hadn't put her foot down about that.

Raven had _no idea_ what Melvin was going to call herself. 'Phantasmagoria' if she was allowed, probably.

They saw her kissing Rorek.

Slade was right, she _was_ fixated.

Well, one thing was certain: She _hadn't_ been herself. Well, okay, she hadn't been the self that she usually was and preferred to be. She could cling to that. She could even pretend she didn't quite remember everything she'd done. Like the part where she kissed Rorek. _Especially_ the part where she kissed Rorek. Despite the fact that _that_ part was the sharpest and clearest memory she had.

What about Malchior? Malchior! He'd been hurt! They'd…she fought desperately to find any little bits and pieces she might have caught despite her fixation with the kids. He'd been alright, but hurt and in a lot of pain. Cyborg had…she'd heard the word 'painkiller' hadn't she? Malchior had protested then but hadn't been given much of a choice. Like needing a painkiller meant he was less of a man or something. Stupid.

Ah, yes! Now she remembered. The protest had drawn her attention because, despite his state, Malchior was able to fend off Cyborg and his IV needle. Rorek had been too scared of hurting him further to be much help. She'd found the argument tiresome so she'd gone over to the gurney, grabbed Malchior by the hair, and told him to take his medicine before she shoved a syringe down his throat. Someone had made some comment about Raven being the only one who could get Malchior to do anything he didn't want to and that was where her memory of the incident stopped.

But at least she knew he was alright. She should go visit him. What time was it? Her curtains had a bit of magical help keeping the light out so that wasn't a reliable way of determining if it was night or day.

Melvin shuffled a little in her sleep, mumbled something, and snuggled closer. One of her new 'friends' appeared and hovered, but Raven glared fixedly at it until it disappeared again.

She closed her eyes and decided she could visit Malchior later. Right now she felt too comfortable and oddly content.

One other thing was certain: The kids were _not_ going back to the monastery. They were going to the Citadel of Azar.

(8)

A/N: So, who all skipped Rorek's memoirs and read them after the chapter? Come on, own up. XD

For those of you who are kinda confused about The Other's two-faced behavior ("What the crap? She tried to kill the twins last time and now she's saving Malchior and kissing Rorek?-!"), don't worry, that'll be explained later.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
In retrospect, the phrase, 'By the way, your dad reared his masked face in Jump City again and we've got some questions.' could have been put _so_ much better.

Guess what! My birthday is coming up this week so I'm taking a few days off for some me time (writing, video games, reading, and the occasional jump into Photoshop). That means there's a good chance I'll be posting in the middle of the week again so be watching for it! :D


	36. Shamble

A/N: WEEEEEEE!-!-!

(8)

_I had refused to assist King Yord in ridding his castle of the shadows and yet I found myself making my way towards the place I had once lived. The surrounding town was dead and empty. The castle was dark and forbidding. I remember walking up to the gate and placing my hand upon the wood only to draw it back sharply and run from that place in a fear that gripped my very soul. After this my memory is blank. The next thing I was truly aware of was waking again in King Yord's present castle and knowing things that I did not wish to. I was beset with questions. Somehow they knew I had gone to the castle despite my earlier refusal._

_I told King Yord what he must do to prevent the curse from consuming all of Elti. My instructions were far from welcomed but I was promised that they would be followed. I told no one of what I learned from touching that door. No one save the High Priest himself._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 36 – Shamble**

It was the morning of the next day and Rorek was still feeling dazed and light-headed. Perhaps some of that was the effect of the drugs that Malchior had been given bleeding over to fog _his_ mind as well, but he was pretty sure it a residual effect of the kiss.

'Kiss'. That small, simple word just didn't seem to cut it. Rorek had kissed and been kissed plenty of times before. Anyone taking a good look at his track record before Malchior would probably have labeled him something like a 'player', despite how picky he'd been. It was amazing just how many trysts you could have when you lived a long time and didn't age. He couldn't remember every kiss, of course. But he _could_ remember the best of them.

Not a single one could compare to what the part of Raven which referred to itself as 'The Other' had done to him. He had been a bit scared at first, thinking for one wild moment that she was about to rip his head off. And then…

Malchior's theory was that The Other had to be all the parts of Raven that she usually kept locked away and suppressed. Rorek believed it. Feral ferocity, undiscovered sensuality, wild passion, confidence, and a sense of self-assured dominance that they had only ever seen in brief, veiled glimpses and that one time when she'd been at the edge of her tether and nearly killed them. It had all been there in that kiss.

'Mine'. They hadn't heard her _say_ it, not verbally, but the word had been there in her manor and her actions. She may as well have said it aloud.

_I hope she understands that this goes both ways._ Rorek thought to himself, unable to stop the smile. Oh they were hers alright. There was no doubt about that. But if she was going to accept this fact then she also had to accept that _she_ was _theirs_.

"_Hey, Rorek…"_

"_Yes? Are you alright?"_ Rorek asked. Malchior's thoughts felt very funny.

"_My brain's not working right. I've been…thingy…starts with a 'p'."_

"_You have been put on some heavy drugs. I think the word you're looking for is 'painkiller'. I believe they called it 'codeine'."_

"_That's the…the thing…yes…can I use yours for a while?"_

"_My what?"_

"_Your brain. Let me…ride around…like…yes…"_

"_I am not sure this works like that."_

"_Don't care…"_

"_As in, I do not know if it is possible."_

"_Let's do it anyway."_

"_Alright…"_

"_Are you laughing at me?"_

"_Nooooo…"_

"_I think you're laughing at me."_

"_I am not laughing."_

"_Bloody…liar…"_ Malchior drifted back off into sleep. He tried to fight it but he had no luck. Cyborg had fixed a tube into his vein which automatically dosed him every few hours. Last time Malchior had regained enough consciousness for thought he'd complained that drugs shouldn't work like this on dragons and objected to the fact that it did for about five minutes straight, repeating himself multiple times until, eventually, he'd nodded back off.

Oh Rorek was going to have a _lot_ of fun relaying _these_ memories.

He got up, dressed himself, and went down into the kitchen still feeling…well, affected. Maybe it _was_ something of a bleed-through from Malchior's medication. He certainly felt more cheerful than he had in the past few days.

He wasn't the first one up today, but since Raven hadn't been among those that woke up before him that didn't matter much. Out of habit he started to make her tea for her. He remembered that she'd been ignoring the steaming mug he set out for her for the past few days but decided not to let that stop him. Alright, so Raven hadn't been herself…or perhaps she'd been more herself than she usually had the daring or, to be honest, lack of sense to be; but she _had_ kissed him. If the silfron were completely beyond redemption then that wouldn't have happened, would it?

"How's Malchior?" Nightwing asked by way of a 'good morning'.

"I believe the term is 'high'." Rorek answered.

"Right…so if _he's_ high, does that mean you get high too?" Cyborg asked curiously.

Rorek was surprised. "I…is it that obvious?"

"A bit more obvious since you forgot to pull your scarf up." Nightwing answered with a grin. "I like your tattoos, by the way. What? What's wrong?"

Rorek caught the expression of horror on his own face in the reflection of the toaster and swiftly pulled the scarf over said face, looking away. "You…weren't supposed to see that…" he admitted uncomfortably.

"We…weren't?" Nightwing asked, glancing over at Cyborg. "We saw them on Malchior when Cyborg was checking him out. He didn't seem to care."

"No…I suppose he doesn't anymore…" Rorek murmured.

Cyborg looked uncomfortable. Then something seemed to occur to Nightwing. "Those…aren't tattoos, are they?"

Rorek sighed. But perhaps Malchior was right. Perhaps accepting them and deciding not to be bothered by them was the way forward. Perhaps being open and up front about this would help. The Titans were not going to use their pains against them. The Titans could be trusted…their _fellow_ Titans could be trusted. So he pulled the scarf down and allowed Cyborg and Nightwing both to see. "No, my friend. They are scars."

"Yeah…I noticed that…" Cyborg admitted. "Who did that to the two of you?"

"I would rather not speak of it. Not now." he pulled his scarf back up over his face. "When do you think Malchior will be allowed off the drugs? He does not enjoy it at all." he asked, changing the subject.

"Pretty soon, I think. He's healing up like lightening, but I guess I can't say I'm surprised. What do I know about dragons? But his body's still in a lot of pain so I'm keeping him on the painkillers for at least another day."

"Slade's going to answer for that." Nightwing said with a hard scowl.

"I suppose this postpones our trip to Azarath." Rorek said.

"Yeah, though I get the feeling Kid Flash isn't going to mind hanging around with us for a day or two more than he expected." Nightwing said.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"His _girlfriend_." Cyborg answered, a smile reappearing on his face. And that smile was a bit…pointed. "Speaking of _girlfriends_." And now Nightwing was grinning as well.

Rorek, however, did not care. The others had made plenty of angling comments and, of course, kissing noises after Raven had taken the kids to her room for bed (after everyone had had a good shower and scrub of course. There'd been a lot of blood), but he had not cared then either. A kiss from Raven was worth a thousand teasing remarks. Though he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to kiss her when she _wasn't_ The Other. He prayed he would get to find out.

So instead of being embarrassed he simply shrugged and asked, "_Are_ we speaking of girlfriends? Very well then, Nightwing, I cannot help wondering when you and Miss Starfire are going to stop thinking we are all blind and admit to your present liaison."

_That_ did it. Nightwing's mouth fell open and Cyborg busted out laughing.

"You…you _know_?-! When did you—when did _you_—who all knows?-!" Nightwing demanded.

"Everyone, man! In fact, we all arranged to get called away just so you and Star could have some time together." Cyborg admitted.

"You did _what_?-!"

"NO!" Raven's voice suddenly shouted from the main doors as the sound of laughter reached them. Without warning some…_thing_ swooped out from the doorway with two kids riding on it. "Melvin! Your friends have to stay hidden when there are other people around! That's the rule!"

At the sound of Raven's normal voice all three males let out mental or even physical sighs of relief. They weren't actually _afraid_ of The Other…more like respectfully wary.

Whatever the kids were riding on vanished from sight but not actual existence. Now it looked like they were riding around the living room on thin air, laughing.

Raven appeared with the youngest on her hip. The child was chewing on something which looked like some sort of polished stone. He had a head full of wispy blond hair that already showed signs of darkening towards brown at the roots. He was at least 3 years of age. The other two had to be around 7 or 8.

"If you break your neck I'm not buying you a new one!" Raven shouted at them. Then she slapped herself in the face and groaned. "I just said that, didn't I?"

"Yep." Cyborg answered, snickering. "Hey! Who wants waffles?" he called out.

"**ME**! **ME**! **ME**!"

"Timmy! You keep that voice of yours at sub-sonic levels, do you hear me?-! Lucky you didn't break something!" Raven snapped.

"Except my ears…" Nightwing groaned.

"The coffee machine has a crack…but I can fix that!" Cyborg added hurriedly. "Is Teether on solids?" he asked.

"Cyborg, he's three years old."

_CRUNCH._

"And that was solid granite."

Munch. Munch. Munch…

"Wow…strong teeth."

Breakfast was chaotic. That is to say, it was _more_ chaotic than usual. Admittedly the kids weren't nearly as wild as they _could_ have been, but the fact was that they had three more people in the living room. Little people, yes, but people nonetheless. Starfire was certainly enjoying herself. She actually _liked_ kids.

There was some commotion when Nightwing found out that Slade was gone. But since they couldn't actually do anything they decided not to let it spoil their day.

Timmy seemed to take a liking to Beast Boy and kept following him around. Teether had been claimed by Starfire, who was lucky he was so young otherwise he'd have protested at the girly bows she was putting in his long blond hair. And Melvin had decided that her new goal in life was to frighten the oblaanpook out of Rorek.

"Wanna see Mary dance?-!"

"Er…who is Mary?"

"She's my imaginary friend! See? She's right there." Melvin pointed to empty space. "She's a good dancer!"

"Er…okay."

The aberration that appeared then was to a doll what a goldfish was to a shark. There was the shape, and there was a definite doll-ness to the thing, but that was where the comparison stopped. There was definitely a reason the word 'shark' had risen up in his head. Fortunately all he got was a glimpse before Raven shouted a protest and the creature vanished.

"She was going to dance for Rorek!" Melvin said defensively to Raven's stern look.

"Save it for the villains." Raven told her. "Here," she shoved a book into Melvin's hands. Melvin looked at it, let out a gasp and squeal of delight, hugged Raven, and ran for the couch.

"What was that?" Rorek asked.

"Fairy Tales." she answered. "The old versions with red-hot slippers and dying mermaids included. I figure if The Other snarling and covered in blood doesn't worry her then neither will they. She's been asking for them for months."

"I cannot imagine what could possibly be written down that would challenge the phantasm she just produced."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Are you alright?"

"I believe my heart has returned to a more reasonable pace, yes." he answered. He was trying to think of something to say to draw her into a conversation but her attention was grabbed by another of the kids before he could.

"Um, Starfire, he _will_ eat that if you let him!" she exclaimed in caution.

"Do not worry, Raven! This is a Tamaranian Strob'loph. They are very strong and are used to train up Tamaranian teeth. He won't—" _CRUNCH!_ "…Wow…strong teeth."

"Yeah, the monastery has been training up his teeth with feldspar and flint." Raven muttered.

"Play with me! Play with me!"

"Raveeeeeen!" Beast Boy whined pathetically.

"Timmy." Raven said warningly. "You say _please_. And if they say 'no' you don't argue. Got it?"

"But, but, but, but…"

"And get your thumb out of your mouth. You're 7 years old. You have no business sucking your thumb."

"But my tooth hurts!"

"It's probably loose. Have any of your adult teeth started coming in? Here, let me see."

"Aaaaaaaa-ow!"

"That's a cavity. Have you been sneaking candy again?"

"No…yes…"

"Uh huh. Come on, let's get that fixed."

"Carry me!…Please?"

"Alright, but you're getting a bit big for this."

She picked the child up and he wrapped his arms around her neck, still clutching that blue blanket he was so fond of. He had a big smile of contentment on his face as he laid his head down on her shoulder.

_And you think you'd be a bad mother._ Rorek thought.

(O)

The kids weren't actually that hard to take care of. In truth they could easily take care of themselves and each other. The only issue was the fact that they had too much energy and not nearly enough of an attention span. Alright, so Melvin was more or less glued to her new book. But that left Timmy and Teether to entertain themselves and Timmy didn't want to play with Teether. He wanted to play with Beast Boy…who was already getting tired of his new shadow. Fortunately Beast Boy's video games were fascinating enough and a few stern words from Raven were enough to make Timmy sit quietly and watch. After realizing that Teether could and would eat absolutely _anything_, Starfire had yet to relinquish him and it was an even bet that Teether would get tired of her before she tired of him.

And so Raven felt finally able to slip away in order to visit Malchior.

Cyborg was there already, checking brain waves and other such vital signs. Malchior was conscious, but high. He had been divested of his armor, his scarf…and his clothes. Well, that had been necessary now that she remembered it. He'd been bleeding out of his sweat glands, which meant there was blood absolutely everywhere. It was only a mercy that Cyborg had decided it was worth the trouble to get a pair of off-white hospital pants on him.

He gave her a drunken grin. "Hu_-llo_ Gorgeous."

"Well _you're_ obviously doing better." she snorted.

Cyborg snickered. "Yeah, he is. If only we could bottle his healing rate and sell it. We'd make a fortune." he told her. "I'm willing to lower the codeine if you can get him to promise not to rip out the tube once his head clears up. He still needs some."

"Don't need any…just a flesh wound…" Malchior mumbled. He gave the space to the right of Cyborg what he thought was a glare but really it just made him look like he needed to use the bathroom. Then he saw Raven again and that rather silly grin reappeared on his face. "Zu'u mindok hi, Britrek. Zu'u laan mindok lok aaz?"

Raven fought hard against the blush and lost. She couldn't help but remember that those had been some of the first phrases she'd learned in Draconic, and that seemed to hold some special impact. Those first lessons seemed a thousand years ago.

"Alright, what did he just say?" Cyborg demanded.

A modern-day translation would probably be something along the lines of, 'Hey there, Beautiful. How about a date?' And she wasn't _about_ to tell Cyborg that. "Never you mind." she growled, cheeks still burning.

"Dii vul Ruvaak, hi kos hahnu zu'u lahney wah su'um."

Even Cyborg blushed that time. Not because he understood the words, but because he didn't have to. The intimate purr in Malchior's voice left little question as to the meaning.

"I'll just…I'll…um…yeah." Cyborg swiftly lowered the dosage of Malchior's painkiller in the computer system and bolted.

That left Raven and a shirtless Malchior alone. Malchior with a rather unfocused expression of what he probably thought was desire on his face, and Raven with a face that had gone _entirely_ red. She wondered if he would remember saying that…and if she could get away with pretending she hadn't understood. Unfortunately even the direct translation would be hard to misinterpret. Especially considering the _way_ he'd said it.

'My dark Raven, you are the dream I live to breathe.'

They had never encountered that particular phrase in any of their lessons, but it _felt_ like an incredibly strong sentiment. Something you didn't bandy about with any flippancy. Perhaps it was not a statement of outright _love_, but it was certainly one of deep feeling and affection.

How was she supposed to respond to it? She didn't know. She had no idea what she was doing and she was deathly afraid of getting it wrong. How could this be so _easy_ for some people? How was it so easy for him to just come out with something like that?-!

He was under the influence of codeine, which was an opiate. Not a heavy opiate, but enough of one to make him high. If she clung to that then she could get around this uncomfortable situation. "Wow, you really are high." she said, her voice a bit higher than usual. She got a grip on herself. Who would have thought she'd be using all those years of training for something like _this_?

A part of her, deep down and _usually_ locked away, proffered a suggestion with no clear words, just the idea of action that her thinking mind translated into words. Well, two side-by-side statements, actually. _Kiss him._ and_ He's mine._

She had to get a hold of herself for the second time in as many minutes. Wild, uninhibited fancies played about in her head before being suppressed and denied entirely. The desire to give in and kiss his lips, his neck, to trace his scars with her eyes, fingers, and tongue. To curl up in the gurney with him despite the obvious lack of room and—

She stopped those thoughts before they could get too far. She knew so little about any of this and it was starting to frighten her. The only thing she knew for certain was that the myth claiming women were only ever _emotionally_ attracted to men was a complete and utter lie.

"Mayyybe." Malchior crooned. He brought his hand up and reached over to her. "You're standing too far away. Come now, I'm…something…got to…got to be nice to me…right…"

_Don't do it._ she warned herself. She walked over to him anyway. After all, he was in this condition because he came to save her, and the kids. She could at least hold his hand for a little bit.

The moment her hand was within reach he took it and brought it to his lips, kissing the goshenite stone that was there. Then he pressed her hand to his face, grinning hugely up at her. "I always like it when you touch me." he mumbled. "Feel so…alive…so distracting…that power you keep…keep…something…would do anything for this…"

He was drifting off. Oh good. She waited until he was asleep and then extracted her hand. She hesitated. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she bent down and kissed his forehead. "Praan pruzah, dii vul Dovah." she murmured.

It was amazing just how similar the grammar structure of Draconic was to English. It made you wonder whether English actually came from Draconic rather than German. Then again, English was the amalgamation of dozens of different languages. Draconic could very easily have been one of them.

She watched him sleep for a while, though if she were honest with herself she had to admit that she wasn't exactly watching him sleep. In point of fact she was studying the Celtic weaves that danced gracefully about his chest, turning into knots of varying complexities whenever they met each other and then sweeping on, down, or about at various angles and arcs. They accented his lean muscles in a manner that was somehow not so much as to be crowded, but still seemed to be everywhere. The designs somehow managed to seem big and simple at first, and then you took a closer look and realized just how complex they were. It was a gestalt image; where you saw the whole first and then noticed the details.

She hated that they were scars. She hated that whatever they'd done had obviously been painful and terrible enough that they would go to great lengths to undo it. But there was no denying the beauty of these markings.

Finally she tore her eyes away and left him to get some sleep.

(O)

"X! Open this door right now, Man! You don't want me to have to override the commands! I don't want to have to do that because then I'll have to reload the security and that will mean a good thirty minutes without an alarm system down here! You're only hooked up to the tower by a big bundle of wires, you know!" Cyborg yelled, hammering on the layered sheets of X's bunker.

"In retrospect, the phrase, 'By the way, your dad reared his masked face in Jump City again and we've got some questions.' could have been put _so_ much better." Nightwing groaned.

"How was I supposed to know he'd freak out like that? I thought it was just his mom he had issues with." Beast Boy grumbled.

"Considering his breeding, I can't help but find it quite commendable that Red X possesses what few morals and sense of honor that he has." Rorek mused.

"Nature versus nurture, I suppose." Raven said.

"Nature versus nurture versus spirit, I am thinking. Nature and nurture may work to shape the spirit but in the end it is the spirit which decides what it shall become. All things considered, thievery is the least of the evils he had to choose from."

"X, he's _not here_! We've searched the tower top to bottom. Slade is _gone_, alright?" Nightwing shouted, hammering on the door.

Beast Boy pressed his ear up to the wall. "I think I hear music."

"If you can then he must have it up pretty loud." Cyborg mused.

"Oh forget this." Raven grumbled. She teleported into the bunker, and immediately regretted it.

_CAN'T READ MY,  
CAN'T READ MY,  
NO HE CAN'T READ MY POKER FACE_

She clapped her hands over her ears and narrowed her eyes at the speakers. They were mostly hidden in various areas of the wall, but since she helped install them she knew where they all were and it was no trouble to put a sound-blocking film of spellfire over all of them.

"Hey!" Red X exclaimed, spinning 'round to stare at her. "I thought you did some magic to stop people from being able to get in here by magic!" he said accusingly.

"Yes. I did. Which is the reason _I_ can bypass it." she responded, striding over to the door. "As we have been trying to tell you: Slade escaped sometime during the night. He is nowhere to be found, and he's certainly not in the tower anymore." she told him.

"But he knows I'm here!" Red X exclaimed as Raven opened the door from the inside. "You losers had better find me another hiding place now! I'm not safe here anymore!"

"No way, Man! We didn't do all this work just for you to use it a few days and then quit!" Cyborg protested.

"I highly doubt Slade is going to tell the very sect he's trying to stop where their most significant VIP has run off to." Raven stated. "In fact there are quite a few things he's not telling anyone."

"We just want to know whatever you can tell us about Slade and his new power." Nightwing said.

Red X threw his hands up in the air. "All I know is that it's new and that Blood Magic doesn't do crap against it. They can't touch him at all. But hey, at least they have no more idea of what it is than I do. But what does it matter to you? Right now we're all on the same side, right?"

"I think Slade's on his own side." said Nightwing.

"Like someone else we know." Beast Boy muttered under his breath.

They asked a few more questions but got nowhere. Red X really was telling them everything he knew. In the end they had to tell him what all happened to result in Slade's brief stay in their not-so-secure prison (heavily edited, of course). Then they decided to leave X alone and return to the living room where Starfire was watching the kids – not that they really needed much watching.

There were so many questions and Slade had disappeared before they could be asked. Why had he drawn Raven out like that? Where did he get that power and why did it act so strangely? Why did it hurt Malchior but not Raven? Why was it that all it did was bring back Raven's birthmarks when it hit her? And why did it destroy some parts of that factory but bounce off others?

Malchior had called it 'hellfire', but all the twins knew about _that_ was in the stories Malchior remembered when he was young. It wasn't actually fire from the pits of hell, but in the old days humans didn't have a whole lot of imagination and things they didn't understand were either from heaven or hell. It was depressing how much more often it was from hell than heaven.

What they did know of it was that the power came from some source and that humans were not normally capable of obtaining or using it. Neither of them knew enough about the stuff so it was impossible to say how it should and should not act. Why it did not hurt Raven was a complete mystery. So was everything else, really. Except why it was so worrying to Blood Magic. And that was a reason that, for once, even Raven was having a hard time understanding.

It had to do with the softness of magic back in the old days. If you thought of the different magics as being like entities, then long ago the ultimate source of what is called hellfire declared war on Blood Magic and conquered it. This means that the two powers will forever be at odds and hellfire will win every time. In a way it was like fighting fire with ice with a pre-declared victor. It _wasn't_ a case of good versus evil, though. More like a case of bad versus worse.

"But that makes no sense! Slade originally got that power from Trigon. Why would Trigon even have that power to give considering the fact that his cult is using Blood Magic?" Raven had protested.

"It is entirely possible that Trigon is unaware of the proceedings of the people claiming to worship him. It occurs to me that all Trigon wanted from this cult was the continuation of the Brother Blood mutation. I doubt he cares much about anything else they decide to do. I also doubt he even cares that the two powers clash. Power is power, after all."

Ah, well, put it like that and she felt silly for asking.

They returned to the living room to find Malchior had escaped the infirmary and had managed to steal the kids from Starfire with the clever use of magic tricks. Right now he seemed to have them utterly fascinated by what looked to be a three-dimensional spider web made of gossamer yarn. It hung in the air, supported by nothing visible, and there were all sorts of glittering and shimmering odds and ends hanging in it. That would likely explain why he had Starfire just as entranced as the kids.

In one arm he had Melvin cuddled up against him and the other he was using to tweak the web, making it move about in odd ways. There was a gasp from the audience as a jewel was seen to pass right _through_ a small golden hourglass.

"How did it do dat?" demanded Timmy.

"Extra dimensions." Malchior answered. "Not the kind that house realms, but the individual ones that layer together like blankets and make up the realms. Everyone lives in and is aware, to some extent, of the first four: Height, width, length, and time. But there are more. Some of them are already there, but others, like the one I'm using here, can be made up on the spot and held there until no longer needed. That is how teleportation works. You create a new dimension and use it to bypass all the others, even time. Watch." he pulled on another thread and suddenly the hourglass was on the other side of the web. This was greeted with sounds of appreciation, though Raven was quite sure the audience hadn't understood a word he said. They just liked the way the threads looked and how all the little treasures glittered and danced. Timmy and Teether both kept waving their hands into the web but their questing fingers went right through anything they managed to reach. Not that this bothered them overmuch. They seemed to enjoy watching their fingers pass through solid objects well enough.

"Yo Man! What the crap?-!" Cyborg exclaimed. "You're supposed to be in the infirmary!-!-!"

"I escaped." Malchior stated unconcernedly. "Don't worry, I turned off the medicine drip before I left so there wouldn't be a mess."

"Look, I didn't lower the dose so you could stop it completely! Aren't you in pain?" he demanded.

"Little enough to be getting on with." Malchior answered.

"He is fine." Rorek came in before Cyborg could protest some more. "If he wishes to suffer then let him. Besides, it is best to take him off the drug before an addiction can set in." he reasoned.

"Dragons can get addicted to stuff?" Beast Boy asked.

"Oh yes. That comes with bearing a physical body. Even animals can develop addictions." Rorek explained.

Raven sat down in front of the hovering glittering web with her legs crossed. She studied it while Teether crawled into her lap. At first it appeared to be a chaotic mass of silver strings and ornaments that had even less organization than a cobweb. But as she looked at it she thought she could detect a pattern of some sort. Hm...

She reached out, found a specific string, and adjusted its position. Three orange and pink crystals tinkled as they danced together and around one another for a moment until they settled into a new position. "You've got three extra dimensions here." she realized.

"I am not certain I understand what he means by 'blankets'." Starfire admitted.

"You know how we tend to say that places like Azarath are in another dimension? That's actually just a short way of saying that they are in another set of dimensions. Really Azarath is in another universe altogether, but is connected to this universe by at least two dimensions so it is not wholly separate." Raven explained. "The dimensions of height, width, and length are an individual set in this instance. Meaning that you can go and find the very edge of any one of those dimensions but you will never find Azarath until you find a fifth dimension, which isn't physical and can therefore only be traveled by magic."

"And the fourth dimension?" Starfire asked, trying desperately to keep up.

"Time is the fourth dimension. Actually in most circles it is considered the _first_ dimension since all universes connected in any way to this one share it. You might find another universe in a dimension different from the one you'd find Azarath in, but all these universes share time as one of the two dimensions they share with this one." Raven explained. "Understand?"

She didn't, Raven could tell. But she nodded anyway because she wanted to share in one of Raven's interests as per regulations of being 'Best Friends'.

"I think I understand." Melvin piped up suddenly. "You can stand at the same length as someone if you're at a different width. And you can stand at the same length and width as someone if you're at a different height. And you can stand at the same length, width, and height as someone if it's at a different time. _That's_ what a dimension is!" she declared triumphantly. "So it's possible to stand at the same height, width, length, and time as someone else if you add another dimension. That's how the stones look like they're going through one another. 'Cause if you close one eye and don't look around, then you can make one thing pass behind another and it looks like it went right through, but only if you're only thinking there's length and height. Right?"

Starfire brightened. "Oh! I understand now!"

"Is that really magic? It seems more like science." Nightwing said.

"Sometimes magic is simply knowing one extra fact. What is magic now may very well become science later." Malchior answered. He looked at Raven, "She's incredibly intelligent for her age." he said, nodding his head at Melvin, who beamed.

"I think the word is 'precocious'." Raven muttered, but there was a slight smirk at the corner of her mouth.

"So what happens when you just mess with random strings?" Beast Boy asked, reaching out to pluck one of the gossamer threads. His fingers went right through it. The expression on his face made the kids laugh.

Rorek sat down next to Raven, also chuckling. "Extra-dimensional spacing; the ultimate child lock." he mused.

"What is that anyway?" Nightwing asked. Now all the Titans were crowding around the large web.

"It is called a shamble. They are extremely useful and versatile tools, though you might be amused to know that they began their existence as simple children's toys." Rorek said. He reached out and hung a pair of large blue gemstones in the web. They were identical to one another.

"Computers started out the same way." Malchior mused. "Raven, do you have an affinity for any specific metal?" he asked.

"Lead. Why?" she asked.

"Lead? Really? I would have guessed silver. Or Titanium." Malchior mused, introducing a lump of not-so shiny metal into the web.

"Ha ha. What are you doing?" Raven asked as Rorek slipped in a nugget of something dark and gold-colored.

"Demonstrating one of the many uses of a shamble." Rorek answered.

Malchior had Melvin move so he could get both hands into the shamble with Rorek and the two of them began to work silently and rapidly in complete unison. All the baubles that had been hovering in the shamble were moved around so that the four new items were in the center. Then the two of them both began removing the baubles and replacing them with crystals of various shapes and shades, all with an odd iridescent sheen that suggested they might be more than just quartz. Once all the baubles were now crystals they began to move the threads themselves around so that the web was beginning to look a bit like a 3-dimensional dream catcher instead. The four items had somehow disappeared behind each other and were nowhere to be seen.

Then they took their hands out. "Watch this." said Malchior. He took a deep breath and shouted into the shamble, "**YOL TOOR SHUL**!"

The words erupted into a fire so great that it burst forth into a rainbow of colors. Not just yellow, blue, and violet, but also green, magenta, purple, red, and white with flickers of many more. It was like a prism and it was utterly stunning. But it should have burned down the entire tower at that temperature. A few titans jumped or shouted or did both, but the fire was completely contained by the open center of the shamble, which drew the fire in and shaped it into a tight sphere that was bleached into all white as the stream of fire continued long after the sound of the words themselves died away. Eventually the fire stopped, leaving the room just a bit warmer than usual but otherwise no worse for wear. Raven _felt_ as though she should have singed eyebrows from all that, though.

"Whoa…so what's that for?" asked a voice.

"Power source." Rorek answered absently. The twins waited until the white sphere was condensed into a tiny sun the size of a golf ball. It was certainly bright. Almost blinding. Then two pairs of handed began to work the strings and get the crystals moving.

The world exploded in a blaze of color.

The effect of the light and the crystals together threw all the colors of light and fire absolutely _everywhere_. Deep colors, bright colors, they danced all over the spectrum in a psychedelic deluge that denied pigment and took over every available surface in the living room to shine off of. The threads themselves only added to the glory. They shimmered and sparkled, reflecting the rays in ways that created a glittering effect. Even the very dust in the air was contributing, making it look as though the air had bathed itself in powdered glitter.

It lasted for a full five minutes. Raven wasn't sure whether it was entirely necessary for them to move the crystals about like that. Likely they were only doing it for the entertainment value. The kids were shrieking in delight, trying to catch the tiny stars that were the dust motes and running about, waving their hands in the rainbows. It wasn't just them either. Starfire was _definitely_ enjoying the colors just as much.

But after that time the tiny star dimmed and winked out, leaving behind a web of crystals, and a pair of what at first looked like some of Raven's own gems. Raven stared at them, and then looked down at the backs of her hands as if half expecting to see the ones she had were gone. No, they were there. This wasn't a magician's trick. There'd been some actual work going on in that little star and this was the result.

The gems were moved over in front of her and were dropped at her feet.

"Useful, isn't it? We could have altered the colors in there as well without actually changing the composition of the stones or metal, but that doesn't always stick when you're intending to use them for practical purposes." Malchior explained.

She picked them up and, with a shock, she realized that the gems were actual _sapphires_. Huge sapphires, each worth a fortune! Sapphires that had been set in lead but plated with gold so they would match the rest of her gems. They were obviously meant to replace the ones on the backs of her hands.

Well, now she knew why precious stones were so rare and valuable on Earth. The dragons had snatched them all!

"That was _amazing_. But what did it do, exactly?"

"It turned the two blue gemstones, the nugget of lead, and nugget of gold, into these." Raven answered, showing Kid Flash the gems.

Hang on a minute.

"Kid Flash!" Nightwing exclaimed, startled.

"Yo!" Flash saluted. "I didn't think you all would still be here so I let myself in. Decided to wait for me?" he asked, grinning.

"Actually no, something sort of…happened yesterday and our trip got postponed." Nightwing answered, also grinning. "But you're still welcome to hang out."

"Awesome. Got anything to eat?" Flash asked.

"How about we all go out for pizza?" Cyborg suggested. This met with general approval.

Raven inspected the gems. She hadn't really been given the chance to say thank you. Maybe there'd be time for that later. Was it just her, or were they a bit…smaller than the stones Rorek had put into the shamble? What happened to the rest of the sapphire?

A swift glance over at Malchior, who had attracted her attention by trying to be a bit too covert, revealed him handing glittery blue chain of sorts over to Melvin. She was trying hard not to show how delighted she was. Whatever it was, it had definitely met with approval. Then he picked her up and put her on his shoulders, having pulled his hair around to get it out of the way.

Raven already had Teether, so that left Timmy to find someone to cling to. He decided on Rorek and grabbed the white dragon by the hand. Raven winced, waiting for Rorek to give her or Starfire a panicked look of pleading. He didn't. Instead he shot Malchior an angry look and almost pointedly mimicked his brother by setting a very happy Timmy up on his shoulders.

This arraignment only lasted until they were air born and then the kids had to move to a piggy-back position instead because it was much better for flying in. Raven was glad Teether had gotten over his flight sickness. It would have been a bit of a squeeze in the T-car if they'd all had to pile in.

(8)

A/N: Turns out the word 'Zu'u' means 'I am' _and_ 'I'. The USEPWiki article CHANGED IT ON ME! -_- It probably doesn't matter since it isn't really pronounced any differently but still! Also can't seem to figure out if it should be capitalized in the middle of a sentence because I can't find quotes that don't have that word in the beginning of the sentence AND IT'S DRIVING ME NUTS!

Cat: OCD much?

AAAAAAAAHHH!-!-!

Also, 'Praan pruzah' means 'Rest good' or 'Sweet dreams'. Sorry, couldn't figure out a good way of putting that into the chapter itself.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Some people are approaching her with nets. Is that normal?

Thank you all for the birthday wishes! :D And virtual cookies for anyone who can tell me where the 'shamble' idea actually came from.


	37. Home

A/N: Please enjoy this dancing bear.

(8)

"_They have many names, many identities. Some call them 'ghost', but this is not accurate. What is a ghost in this world is no more than the lingering spectral imprint of memory and emotion left behind when a soul departs. But that is not what **they** are. They are shadows, the devourers of these ghosts. What they are is not fully understood. Who they are is the wrong question to ask. We call them Faal Vopraan; The Unresting._

"_There is one they go to. A human, usually. Sometimes they choose a Child of Pahmonah, often they do not. We call them Vuldein; Dark Keeper. We do not know why Faal Vopraan gather in the shadow of these chosen individuals and perhaps it is better that we do not speculate. If you wish to save the land you once called home, journey north and seek out the present Vuldein. A guide will join you along the way. But first, sit with me a while. Let us speak of less troubling things so the night holds fewer fears."_

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 37 – Home**

He hadn't gotten the tube out soon enough.

Codeine. He knew what that was, didn't he? Usually it was taken orally and with tablets but Cyborg had made up some kind of solution drip for it so he could get a constant feed to keep the pain down. And he knew it was keeping the pain down because he had machines meant to scan the brain for that kind of activity. Apparently Cyborg was used to his patients insisting they were fine and didn't trust them at their word.

But now he was dealing with a different kind of pain.

Addiction.

You wouldn't think one day would be enough but it was. He'd known it would be and that was, primarily, why he had fought so hard against the opiate. He _hated_ it. He hated this thirst, this craving for a thing he did not need. A thing that would destroy even a dragon if allowed.

Addiction…it reminded him too much of Blood Magic.

And there was pain. Constant pain. A hunger that whispered to him 'just one drop. No one would miss just one drop. Just a cut, easily healed, easily recovered. No one will miss it, and it could be from anyone. No one need know.' but it would not stop with one drop. The thirst would not be satisfied with one drop. His body would want more and would _scream_ for it. Then, when he gave in, again and again, the pain would progress until addiction consumed him entirely.

He needed a distraction, and a powerful one. It wasn't just the drugs now but that blasted magic! 'Hate' was not a strong enough word. '_Loathe_' was a bit better. Once was all it took and now it would hover over him for the rest of his existence. But he could fight it. He knew well how to fight it. If worst came to worst there was a method of relief called the Oroborous.

Humans saw the Oroborous as a symbol of eternity or something like that. Dragons had a very different meaning for that symbol. The method named after it was, more or less, the only way to truly wean yourself off of Blood Magic. But it was like a nicotine patch and could become addictive in its own right. Best not to if he could help it.

He just needed a distraction. That was all. Something to focus his thoughts on so he could forget this craving.

After a few minutes thinking he got up and went over to the desk where he and Rorek had hidden the book they were working on as well as the extra papers for their drafts. Between the two of them they knew hundreds of stories and poems and they had written down quite a few. However, neither he nor Rorek had ever thought to compose something original.

He decided to try it out. Now…what did he want to write? Hmmm…a poem, he decided. So, what should he write his poem about?

Well, that was obvious enough. All he had to do now was figure out what he wanted the poem to actually _say_ and he was half way there.

There was a knock on the door.

It wasn't that late. Admittedly Rorek was already asleep and so were the kids, but that didn't mean everyone else was as well. Even so he decided to swiftly return the papers and pencils to the desk drawer and close it as silently as he could before he crossed to the door and opened it.

It was Raven.

He smiled at her and was only too pleased to see her blush and avert her eyes. Shy and nervous. That was a good sign. It meant she had something to be shy and nervous _about_.

He was wearing his pants and shirt because some of the withdraw had given him mild chills. He kind of wished he'd taken his shirt off, though. Unlike Rorek, he had no problem showing off. To him the scars were a symbol of what they had survived. Like trophies. He felt no shame from them at all and he liked the way Raven couldn't seem to stop herself from staring when she thought he wasn't paying attention. But if he decided to take his shirt off now it would make her uncomfortable and she might leave.

This was the first time they'd been alone together for a while. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew Raven. Words that would make most other women swoon and flush would close her up and cause her to draw back in defense against this unfamiliar territory. He had to be careful.

"Hey," he began in a normal voice, "Can't sleep again?" he managed to stop himself just in time before he asked, 'want a back massage?'

"Um…no…actually I just wanted to thank you for the gems." she answered, forcing herself to look back up at him.

"You're welcome."

"And making that necklace of all the leftover shards for Melvin was very sweet."

His face fell. "She wasn't supposed to show you that." he stated.

"She didn't. I saw you hand it to her." she told him.

"Oh…Well that was from both of us. Rorek and I, I mean. I made sure she knew that."

"Oh, good. Um…I was going to tell Rorek thank you but I think he's asleep."

"Yes, he is."

"Ah…"

She seemed to be steeling herself to say something, and whatever it was had her very nervous. The blush was coming back. He liked it when she blushed, and not just because of how attractive it looked with a bit of color in her pale porcelain cheeks. If only there was a way to bleach that gray hue out.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked. "We haven't sat down and just talked for some time."

She looked tempted, but shook her head. "Probably need to get some sleep…we'll be getting up early tomorrow." she said.

"Right…"

Another awkward pause. He could sense her trying to work up the nerve for what she wanted to say, but he wasn't sure how to encourage her to come out and say it. It was a bit strange. Raven was reserved by nature but he was quite sure she was making the effort to be more outspoken these days. She usually was with him; she had no problem expressing herself when she was annoyed.

"Well…goodni—" he began, hoping to prompt her into whatever it was she wanted to say. It sort of worked. She grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him.

As kisses went it wasn't exactly earth-shattering; she did little more than gently press her lips to his with all the familiarity of someone who knew the mechanics but whose actual experience was limited to 'what I read in a book somewhere'. It was nothing like the one The Other had given Rorek; all raw instinct and self-assured dominance. Not that he was surprised. But it was a kiss from Raven. There was that tingle of power he and Rorek always experienced whenever they touched her skin-to-skin. Only it was magnified into a veritable shock of electricity by such intimate contact and it made his head spin.

She had obviously intended it to be little more than a peck. After less than two seconds she was already drawing away with the air of a frightened doe. But he was too quick for her. Before she could actually pull away he had an arm around her waist and he was pulling her into his room, determined to show her what a _real_ kiss was like. She let out a small squeak of surprise. He let the door close itself behind her and then he pressed her up against it.

"I only—" she began, her eyes wide and uncertain.

"Like this, dii aazvah Ruvaak." he purred, one arm holding her against him, the other's hand cupping her cheek. He gave her a long, languid kiss, his lips massaging hers slowly and tenderly as he took his time tasting her and experiencing the thrill of that power; a taste of lightening in his head and throughout his body. She made a small, involuntary sound – like a whimper or a groan – and melted into his arms.

By the time he pulled back her cheeks were a most attractive shade of pink, her lips were dark with the extra blood being worked through them, and there was a dream-like glaze in her eyes. He fixed this image firmly into his memory and stroked her cheek. He held her like that for a few seconds and then, reluctantly, he released her.

"Goodnight, Ruvaak." he murmured, letting the door open behind her.

"G-goodnight." she responded, all but stumbling back out. He watched her make her way back to her room just to make sure she _did_ get back to her room and then slipped back into his own, feeling _very_ pleased with himself.

He sat down, pulled out his paper, and began to compose.

(O)

Rumor had had time to spread in Raven's absence and Azarath (or, at least, the Citadel of Azar) was definitely expecting her back. There wasn't a party or anything, but the Citadel was getting pretty excited all things considered.

"Whoa…this place is _huge_!" Red X exclaimed.

"You'd better be on your best behavior." Raven warned.

"Everyone's looking at you. Popular much?" X teased.

"No just well-known." and carrying a cuddly Teether who was ready for a nap. That was going to give the rumor mill, such as it was, a lot of fun.

They were being escorted to a spare dormitory when they passed by one of the Citadel's large clocks just as someone began screaming and wailing on it with a poker. The Titans, all save Raven, stared.

"Must be two seconds off." Raven mused. "Is Astrid an acolyte now?" she asked their escort.

Eudeal sighed. "A grandmaster, actually." she admitted with some reluctance. "Don't ask how it happened. We don't know."

"Um, translation? Some people are approaching her with nets. Is that normal?" Nightwing asked.

"That's Astrid. Her internal clock measures time by the millisecond and is more accurate than any machine. Usually they let her adjust the master clock every morning and afternoon because she goes crazy when they're more than one second off. She must have gotten busy with something." Raven mused.

"So she attacks the clock with a poker? I thought you people were all pacifists." Red X said.

"Yes, but that means something a bit different in Azarath. Besides, no one's perfect." Raven answered.

Their dormitory was small and didn't have quite enough rooms but that was fine. It was serviceable and at least they were allowed to stay together rather than being separated by gender as Raven had half expected. The twins were agreeing to bunk together, the kids were all used to sharing beds, and X would have taken the common room couch anyway. So that took care of that.

"Well, obviously we're welcome here. They're assuming we're here to spend the night." Raven mused.

Another round of bickering broke out between the twins. Who was surprised?

"You had her all of yesterday! It is my turn!"

"Since when were we taking turns? You don't even like kids."

"That is not true!"

"And anyway, she likes me more."

"How come they're fighting over Melvin?" Timmy demanded with a pout.

"Because she's the girl." Raven answered. "Boys fight over girls."

"Why?"

"You'll figure it out when you get older."

Marlen Zanith asked them to meet him in a little-used dojo since his office wouldn't be nearly big enough for a visit. Raven knew the way so they didn't need an escort. But their party was pretty big and so it took them some time to get around. Especially since not all of them can fly.

"Is everyone superpowered here?" Nightwing asked, riding on a disk of Raven's spellfire.

"No, psychically or magically powered. Both of which can be achieved by anyone with enough training and effort." Raven answered.

The central column of the citadel was the largest open space in the building and was, more or less, the main elevator. It just didn't have an actual elevator. It saw quite a lot of air traffic, though. Monks and sorcerers were flying every which way. There were collisions, but that was a fact of the airway. Mostly when two or more people hit one another they all said 'sorry', rearranged themselves, and kept going. Most everyone gave the Titan party a respectful berth, though. So there wasn't a whole lot of knocking around for them.

The dojos were all on the bottom level and the numbered dojos (those that didn't get actual names) were all down one hallway and in a large spacious cavern filled with what looked, from the outside, to be small huts. On the inside, however…

"Whoa! How did we get outside?-!" Beast Boy exclaimed.

Marlen Zanith, who had been waiting for them, chuckled. "Merely an illusion. A good one, but an illusion nonetheless. Try get past the tree line and your nose will tell you the truth of the matter."

"Why? Because they don't smell like trees?"

"No, because the nose is usually the first part of you to smack into a wall you can't see." Zanith answered. "Come, let's sit down. The grass is soft to provide unstable footing for field training and, fortunately, a fake landscape tends to lack bugs."

"WHEEEE!"

"Melvin! Timmy! Don't try to climb the trees, they're not real!" Raven called.

"Okay!"

"If I had known you were bringing young ones along I'd have picked one that _did_ have trees." Zanith said, cocking his head at Teether, who was struggling out of Raven's arms so he could join in the fun. She set him down and let him go, all thoughts of a nap forgotten.

"Sorry about that but we couldn't leave them in the tower." Raven said.

"Or anywhere else." Nightwing added. "Marlen Zanith, right? Pleased to meet you. I'm Nightwing." he said, holding out his hand.

"Who was once Robin, correct? Ah good. So…that would make you Starfire, Beast Boy,"

"Beast _Man_ now."

"Ah, of course. Beast Man, Cyborg, I have already met the one of you,"

"Ha ha." said the twins in unison. That made Raven snicker.

"But I do not know who you are."

"Take a guess." Red X said, spreading his hands out.

"That's Red X. He's sort of..." Nightwing began, and had no idea how to finish.

"The reluctant Brother Blood." Malchior filled in.

"DUDE!-!-! NOT COOL MAN!" Red X exploded.

Zanith's eyes went wide. "_You_ are Brother Blood?" he asked slowly.

"_No_." Red X answered, his mask's eyes narrowed into a glare directed at Malchior. "There's a certain rite you have to do to actually become Brother Blood. I haven't done it and I never will. Not Brother Blood. Got it?"

"Certainly. Any particular reason for your reluctance?" Zanith asked.

"_Dude_? Are you seriously asking me that?" X demanded. "This _is_ Azarath, right?"

"Yes, I am simply curious as to why you, personally, do not wish to become the supreme master of one of the most dangerous cults on earth." Zanith explained.

"You want a list? First off: It's too much work."

"Saw that coming." Nightwing muttered.

"Secondly: I don't like that Blood Magic stuff. Thirdly: My mother's a psychopathic control freak who talks to herself in the mirror and calls herself 'darling', no joke. Fourthly: I don't like being told what to do or what to _be_. Fifthly: Trigon looks like freaking _Satan_—"

"Actually, the idea of Satan having hooves and horns was invited by the Christians as a means of frightening various pagans away from worshiping their horned deities. The resemblance of these deities to Scath may or may not be pure coincidence. All the same, it would be more accurate to say that modern representations of Satan resemble Scath, not the other way around." Raven pointed out.

Red X drew a big 'W' in the air, "What-EVER." he drawled out in an attempt to fully express how much he didn't care. "Point is, I want to be who I want to be and that is _not_ Brother Blood. So I'm just going to hide out until you all get rid of them for good and just live out my own life. Sound good to you?"

"Quite good. If you are willing to provide us with some information." Zanith answered.

"I'll tell you everything I know, gramps. Including the color of Mother Mayhem's lace nighties."

"That's something I highly doubt we'll need to—"

"Pale blue."

"I didn't need to know that." Zanith turned to Raven. "And the children who are currently orbiting us with enthusiastic velocity?"

"Melvin, Timmy, and Teether are super heroes. They're also mine, legally anyway. They were targeted by the Church of Blood so I was hoping they could stay here, at least for now." she answered.

"Of course, Raven. Though they will be expected to train and help with chores. Also there's schooling to consider."

"Good. Watch out for Melvin, though. She's too smart for her age."

Zanith snorted at this. "So were you."

"Hey, about this training…" Nightwing came in.

(O)

This wasn't a dojo so much as a gym. It was wide-spread, communal, had multiple arenas with multiple landscapes, and there was always some practical lesson going on somewhere that anyone could join in, provided you were wearing a practice gi.

Azarath's culture was made up of bits and pieces borrowed from all over Earth.

Cyborg didn't really need a gi but he put one on anyway 'cause he liked the way it looked. Rorek had to be bullied into his by way of constant teasing from his brother, and Nightwing was asked to remove his mask, which he refused to do. Raven had to explain that they wouldn't get it off him with a crowbar and it would be best not to make an issue of it. That didn't mean Rorek could get away with his scarf, though. The scarf could prove to be cumbersome. The mask would not.

Red X was just going to hang back and watch.

Several sparing sessions stopped when the Titans entered and much whispering started up. Not to be at all dithered or intimidated, Nightwing walked right up to two monks who were frozen in the act of artfully wailing on each other and said, brightly, "Hey, mind if I join? I'll fight the loser so I don't get beaten quite so bad."

Raven hid a smile. She wasn't the only one who had matured. Some years ago Nightwing would have come out with something far too cocky and self-assured. On the other hand…

Raven waited until Nightwing was actually in the arena with one of the trainees before finishing that thought. It would have been right, though. Psychic power and clear heads were all well and good, but you needed to have had far more than four years of training before it could match Nightwing's skill and real-world experience. It was clear in the first five seconds that his opponent was greatly outmatched. When the Trainee monk had been thrown out of the ring he got unsteadily to his feet and grinned at Nightwing. "I think you're overestimating the prowess of a Trainee. You want to fight a Career monk if you're looking for a challenge." he said.

One such Career leapt into the ring with a bright, eager smile. That fight lasted a bit longer, but Nightwing had yet to break into a sweat. Oh the monks might be able to break cinder blocks with their fists and feet, but that didn't help you much against someone who frequently got the better of people who were bigger, stronger, had odd powers, and attacked him on a weekly basis. Sheer experience, honed instinct, and sharp reflexes were dominating the psychic advantages that the Monks of Azarath were so proud of. You weren't allowed to use levitation in these arenas, after all. They were specifically for martial arts and nothing else.

Cyborg, who wasn't all that interested in watching Nightwing show off, wandered over to the strength-training area. Starfire had been asked if she'd like to spar by a Trainee, who was relieved to hear her martial arts were a bit lacking and was only too eager to offer her pointers. Beast Boy was attempting to get the attention of a few girls, but most of them were swooning over the twins from a shy distance. The twins were watching Nightwing with some intensity. And Raven found herself wandering over to where a net free Grandmaster Astrid was beating the crap out of a reinforced punching bag that had a cardboard clock face on the top.

She wasn't sure why she was being drawn over here. Perhaps it was because Astrid had been one of the few people in her childhood who hadn't been at all worried about Raven's lineage and treated her exactly the same as she treated everyone else. This was not, Raven now knew, because Astrid understood that who you were wasn't dictated by what your father was. This was because Astrid was one of those people who had trouble taking much of an interest in anything outside their own private worlds. Raven's heritage hadn't meant much to her because she simply didn't pay enough attention to anything that didn't involve clocks, time, or numbers. Raven was quite sure that the only reason she took an interest in martial arts was to study the ways in which so much activity could be crammed into just a few seconds.

Watching Astrid wailing on that punching back for a few seconds and Raven realized the reason why she had become a Grandmaster.

Astrid was warping _time_. Raven wasn't sure how. Actually she wasn't even sure how she knew that in the first place. All she could really see was the woman's feet and fists going at speeds that no mortal should be able to achieve (unless you were Flash or Kid Flash) and moving around the punching bag so swiftly that her bare feet were leaving odd marks in the grassy terrain.

"Gets you the first time you see it, doesn't it?" said a Trainee at Raven's elbow. "I heard that the other Grandmasters can't seem to figure out how she's doing that, even after she's explained it."

Raven nodded to confirm that she'd heard but she couldn't take her eyes off Astrid. She was mildly aware of the Trainee going somewhere else (apparently this was a common sight) but Raven was utterly fascinated.

Astrid didn't stop until the punching bag ripped open. After that she seemed to sort of wind back down in some way. Only then did she notice her audience. She blinked at Raven. "Um…"

"Grandmaster Astrid? I'm Raven. Do you remember me?" she asked.

Astrid brightened. "You're that girl who accidentally destroyed the old clock, right? Could you do it again? I'm sure I could do a better job but they won't even let me try! Honestly, am I the only one bothered by the fact that it loses .0543 seconds a day? Apparently!" she huffed.

Figures that was what Astrid would remember about her.

"I've sort of got too much control over my powers now to accidentally destroy anything these days." Raven admitted.

"Oh…oh well. Maybe someone else will come along. Um…" Astrid's expression glazed over as it tended to do whenever the conversation seemed to be sidling away from time or numbers. She put a hand to her belt and whipped out a bundle of cards which she riffled through desperately until she found the appropriate one. She brightened, read it carefully, then put the cards back. "How Have You Been?" she asked, the words coming out like someone chiseling them out of rock.

Raven couldn't help the smile. "Fine. How has your research been coming along?"

Focus snapped back. "Terrible!" she gushed out. "I'm a Grandmaster and _still_ no one takes me seriously! I have been studying the mystery of the restoration after Scath was defeated by the Teen Titans – oh that was you, wasn't it? Anyway, no one knows why, after everything was destroyed, it all came back when he was gone. Except me, but not even Patriarch Zanith believes me! Well…some of the mages believe me…but I'm sure they're only saying that to humor me!"

"Really? How do you believe it happened?" Raven asked, wondering what she was getting herself into.

"Well!" Astrid took a deep breath and started talking. Fast. "Time stopped, actually _stopped_. No more time at all, anywhere. Throughout the entire universe and all its connecting realms. But _duration_ continued, and it was in this dimension of _duration_, though not time, where everything was destroyed. Everyone turned to stone and everything going up in great big balls of fire and lava. Time, as a dimension, was simply cut out and replaced with a faux time, a sort of _winding_ time that Scath and the Titans made use of to continue, well, being and doing stuff. So when Scath was defeated this faux time went away and was replaced by actual time in which everything was back to normal and only a few bits and pieces of evidence remained. _That's_ why nothing stayed destroyed! The dimension in which it was all still whole was stopped, cut out, and put off to the side. Right? But the people I tell all this to come back and say, 'But Astrid, you're always telling us that stopping time is only possible if you don't mind exploding into a thousand pieces. How could the Titans have done anything with time stopped?' and they just don't understand that the two instances are _completely different_! All I do is stretch time to get more out of it. Stopping time with this method _would_ mean I'd turn into geography. But to a being like Scath, who can stand _outside_ time and make it do tricks, it's completely different. Admittedly I'm still a bit confused as to how the Titans managed to do the same trick as Scath but they did and they probably don't know how but _I'm_ thinking they somehow managed to grab hold of some of Scath's power or that Raven had some of Scath's power which she gave to them and that was how they did it. Oh, hang on, _you're_ Raven, right? Right! Do you know how you did it?"

Her head was spinning. She wasn't entirely sure she caught all of that, or if she'd be able to understand it even if she had. "Um…no…I don't." she admitted.

"That's a shame. Have you been able to do it again?" Astrid asked.

Raven opened her mouth to say 'no', and then paused. "Actually…I _can_ stop time. I'm not sure how, and I can't seem to do it at will, but I have done it before…at least three times now, though there might have been more."

Astrid looked like Christmas had come early. Actually, no, if Christmas had come early she'd go crazy because it wasn't happening at its proper time. She _did_ look like she'd just been given the best present in the world. Unfortunately for her when she started talking she did so at a speed you could normally only achieve with a recording device and an audio manipulation program. This time Raven couldn't catch _any_ of her words. "Grandmaster Astrid, you need to slow down! I can't understand you!" Raven exclaimed.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Come and see!" said an excited voice. "One of the Acolytes has challenged Nightwing!"

There were 7 levels that the Monks had. There was Initiate, Novice, Trainee, Full Monk (Also called 'Career' because anyone who achieved this level and continued to train was aiming to make a career out of it), Acolyte, Master, and Grandmaster. It was a lot harder to go from Career to Acolyte than it was to get from Trainee to Full Monk. The expectations were much higher, and it wasn't just about being able to beat up someone in a ring either.

Raven recognized the one who had challenged Nightwing. Anyone would. Nine years ago he'd been a Trainee. But then, Nine years ago Astrid had been a Career. The fact that she'd been elevated from Career to Grandmaster in that short amount of time had to be some sort of record.

His name was Damien Crux, grandson of Matriarch Lucrita Crux who had passed away some time before Azar's death. The Azarathian social ladder wasn't nearly as stringent or as clear-cut as the ones on Earth tended to be, but if this _were_ Earth then Damien would probably be something like a prince. Or, at the very least, a spoiled rich kid. He wasn't spoiled, though. Azarathian society was such that paupers sat with princes, learned the same lessons, and achieved the same recognition for the same tasks. The social ladder wasn't so much a ladder as a mixing bowl. So the fact that the Crux family had a lot of money _wasn't_ why Damien was well-known. He was well-known because he was dedicated, hard-working, took his training and studies seriously, and had been able to defeat most Acolytes in combat in his early days as a Career.

Oh, yeah, and he was also handsome.

Long black hair pulled back into a tight braid, his fair skin had the slightest of tans, his face was clean of hair due to his youth and the fact that Azarathian boys don't grow beards until around the age of 68 (which would be around 30 or so, give or take, with Earth's growth rate). His eyes were almond-shaped, reminiscent of some oriental bloodline, but were a deep, vivid blue.

His face was set and emotionless as he crouched before Nightwing in a simple, basic battle stance. But Nightwing was smiling. He was excited. This was very likely the real reason he wanted to come to Azarath.

"You'll go easy on me, right?" he asked.

"After what I have seen, I will not have to." Damien returned.

The crowd that had gathered were whispering excitedly to one another. Raven could feel the tension and excitement, particularly from Trainees and Novices who neither had the ability to hide their emotions nor knew that they needed to. Maybe they didn't, not anymore. There were so many unfamiliar faces here. Azarath had not stood still in her absence, that was certain.

Raven managed to wade through the crowd to where the twins were still standing. "This one's different." Malchior said by way of a greeting.

"He's an Acolyte. There are much higher standards for Acolytes than Careers." Raven explained.

Rorek shook his head. "Nightwing just defeated an Acolyte before this one showed up. It was not an easy victory by any means, but he _was_ the clear victor. This is not the same. I am loath to say it, but I am pretty sure Nightwing is outmatched."

It was soon apparent that Damien's intention had not been to defeat Nightwing, however. He had known, just as Malchior and Rorek did, that Nightwing would have lost. Instead he was giving Nightwing exactly what the crime-fighter had come here for: A lesson. He wasn't shouting out instructions. Any tips and tricks he could give verbally Nightwing already knew. Instead they were just sparring, and the many times Damien could have knocked Nightwing out of the ring he didn't.

Raven wondered if she'd ever actually watched Damien fight like this before now. She doubted it. She and Damien had never really had much to do with one another. They just sort of knew _of_ the other. To be honest, most of the faces she recognized and the names she remembered were people she'd known _of_, not really _known_. Even the sorcerers tended to keep their distance.

He was very graceful. He made the most complicated of moves look utterly effortless. She wondered how potent his psychic powers had become, and then wondered why she was wondering. She'd never thought of herself as the nostalgic type. Perhaps it was that, even if certain parts of one's life hadn't been very happy, such memories were still part of you; still made up a bit of who you were.

Most of the crowd dispersed when they realized this wasn't an actual battle, but it didn't go on for much longer. Nightwing was running low on stamina and needed a rest. So eventually they called a stop and shook hands. Then Damien turned to the twins. "What about either of you?" he asked, inviting them into the ring with a hand.

"We are magic-users, Serrah. Not martial artists. We would not be much of a challenge in such conditions." Rorek said, holding a hand up.

"I see. Pity. Although, to be honest I feel the arcane arts have more to offer." he said, approaching them. "It is the work of the sorcerers that keeps our society fed and watered, for all the field agents boast. But my mother wished for me to become a monk instead." he confessed.

"You're pretty good at it, though." Nightwing offered.

"Perhaps. But up until now combat capabilities have only been of use to those few chosen to walk the overworld. And even then such a thing has become less and less of a necessity. Tell me, where did you gain such skills? I've often been led to believe that the martial arts have declined in favor of mechanical weaponry."

"You've got to have a serious edge if you want to be a superhero without any actual powers." Nightwing answered. "I've had several masters over the years. And they're getting pretty hard to find, let me tell you."

"All humans possess powers beyond those that the average Earth individual displays. It is simply a matter of knowing how to unlock them and train them." Damien explained. He then nodded to Raven. "I almost didn't recognize you, Raven. You used to keep your hair very short, as I recall."

"Overworld influences. Mostly Starfire." Raven answered, pointing over to where the Tamaranian was cheerfully overpowering Trainee after Trainee, none of whom seemed to be able to get around the fact that she was just too much stronger than they were for their slight skill advantage to do them much good. Starfire's hair was gleaming in the magically generated sunlight.

"You two know one another?" Nightwing asked.

"You are going to be hard-pressed to find anyone on Azarath who doesn't know Raven Roth. But we have had a few personal encounters. Training sessions and what-not." He turned to her. "So, what was it like being a 9-year-straight field agent?" he asked.

"I'm just here for a visit, Damien. I'm not here to stay. Earth is my home now." she told him.

"Ah. I suppose that is what I get for giving the rumor mill too much credit." he mused.

Well _this_ didn't feel incredibly awkward at all. Sure, let's pretend we were actually somewhat friendly so the fact that everyone was scared of her when she was younger _doesn't_ come up in the conversation.

She could have hugged Nightwing for changing the subject.

"Well, I'm done for the day." Nightwing said. "Let's see what the others are up to."

(8)

A/N: So…um…there's not going to be a Squares update this weekend. And that's partly because I just flat out don't have any new ideas and partly because I didn't get NEARLY as much writing done during the week as I thought I would because I made the mistake of sticking my Diablo III disc into my computer and now I can't seem to get off. Don't worry! All I need is a little self-control and some way of getting my drive back so I don't get too far behind and run out of my drafts/buffer chapters. :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
If she's anything like ours he's going to need a cast-iron frying pan.

Looks like school's back, which sucks real bad. Means I'll have to deal with the stupid school zones on my way to work again. Grumble, grumble, gripe, gripe…AND NO ONE'S ALOWED TO SAY THAT I GET IT EASY SINCE I DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL MYSELF BECAUSE, GUESS WHAT, YOU DON'T GET A SUMMER BREAK WHEN YOU'RE WORKING FULL-TIME! So enjoy it while you can.


	38. Broken Circle

A/N: Meh. I got nothing.

(8)

_I was surprised but so very glad to see Madam Crow again. She was to be my guide, choosing to appear to me as a youthful woman with shimmering hair nearly as white as my own but with strands that glinted like pale silver. It was strange as I had become accustomed to seeing her as elderly. It occurred to me that Madam Crow was more than merely human, but what she was she would not say outright. Instead I received more riddles to wade through in my mind. I asked of her connection to the High Priest and she explained to me that she knew him well._

_Just how old was Madam Crow, really?_

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 38 – Broken Circle**

"Don't try so hard. You cannot force the energy to move through your body, you have to let it flow. Relax a little."

"You'd think I'd remember something this basic."

"Not if you've been using mostly magic all this time. Take a deep breath; that tends to help."

She took a deep breath and let it out. She relaxed her body a little so as to relax her mind. She redirected her emotions. Energy was energy…psychic power and magical power; go far enough down and the two were one and the same. Different but not unconnected. Energy was energy, matter was matter, space…time…the dimensions, the physical aspects of reality. Energy was energy. Movement, heat, light…

How had this been so easy for The Other? The Other had turned her power into physical force without even trying. Perhaps…perhaps psychic power was the natural, the primal, shape of all human power. But since she was not entirely human that power preferred the shape of magic.

_Power…don't think about psychic or magic, just think about the energy._ she told herself. She crouched into the same stance that Damien was using. "Ready." she said.

Malchior and Rorek were being given some sort lessons in the basics by one of the Careers, a very tired Nightwing was having his first lesson in the psychic aspect of monk fighting – that being in proper meditation and how to do it without falling asleep. Beast Boy was being asked to demonstrate the typical method of battle used by certain of Earth's more vicious wildlife. Starfire was being taught individual moves and katas. And Cyborg had been carted over to Azarath's techno laboratories where he was likely being asked to give some lectures and demonstrations of his own. He'd taken Red X with him. Well, no he hadn't. Red X had just followed him without asking.

Raven wasn't sure why Damien had offered to help her brush up on her martial arts. Everyone knew she was primarily a sorceress. She had achieved the level of Trainee back when she'd been studying as a monk, but she largely suspected that was because her ability to meditate and focus her emotions was on par with the Masters.

But that wasn't so much a feat of her skill as an absolute necessity.

Still, what meager amount of hand-to-hand combat she possessed had been gained _after_ her departure. Then again, since she'd learned most of it from Nightwing and tended to measure her own skill against him, perhaps she wasn't as bad off as she'd thought. Nightwing had, after all, defeated an Acolyte even while his stamina was winding down.

But her ability to use her psychic power as a monk should was greatly lacking.

She attacked, simply punching for now while Damien caught her fists in order to judge how much power she was putting into her limbs.

"Good." he told her, countering her force with his own. "That's it, you've got it. Keep it up. Don't think about speed or style right now, just focus on pumping that power into the body itself. Arms, legs, even your torso. Try to keep it all balanced out and even regardless of what you are using."

Legs, she'd forgotten about her legs. You needed strength in all parts of the body in order to truly put your all into an attack. She pulled back a moment to get herself balanced, and then she came back.

"Much better." he said approvingly.

A few more punches and she started putting in a few kicks. This wasn't an actual fight, however, so she was aiming for his braced hands rather than anything vital. But she was starting to get a feel for this, as though she wasn't so much learning it as remembering it.

She _was_ remembering it. Not from her monk training, but from The Other. The Other had done this effortlessly, and she had a vague recollection of that feeling, of redirecting her power. Not forcing it, but guiding it gently and subtly into the necessary shape. It _wanted_ to be magic, but that did not mean it had to be.

"Alright, would you like to try an actual spar?" Damien asked.

"Yes." she decided.

They began.

Fists and legs flew, struck, twisted, turned, danced, dodged, and blocked. Her goal was to toss her opponent out of the ring. She knew she couldn't, but such thought was sent away so that her thoughts could be focused upon the battle. At first he simply dodged and blocked and she registered a look of surprise on his face that she saw but did not consider. Thoughts like that would have to wait for another time. All she should be looking for was the next attack, the next opportunity, seeing her opponent's moves and predicting them. She was good at reading people. Then he started to take the offensive and she found herself with no time for anything but to block, dodge, or take a hit and keep on if she needed to. She registered pain, but pushed it aside. All emotions were focused on the task at hand. She was the edge of a blade. Her power and thoughts focused. It was almost like becoming a ghost of The Other.

She wasn't sure how long they went like this. Time did not seem to be worth considering. All she knew was that she was fighting, and then she had been knocked out of the ring. This registered in her mind as defeat; an end or pause to the battle. She blinked and rolled back up onto her feet. She felt a bit like she was coming out of a daze of some sort. And now multiple parts of her body were chiming in to complain with great enthusiasm.

"Ow!" she gasped, rubbing her side and wincing. It seemed to be the loudest complainant, though not by a whole lot. She forgot the pain when she noticed the way everyone was looking at her. That was odd, this crowd hadn't been there when they'd started had it?

"My sentiments as well." Damien said. She looked at him and noticed, with great surprise, that he was sweating and rubbing his arm. "Either I am a better teacher than I thought, or you've picked up some tricks on Earth. I am thinking that if your power and focus were combined with Nightwing's skill I would be in some real trouble. Weren't you a Trainee before you left?"

"Yes? Why is everyone looking at me like I just grew a second head?" Raven asked, rubbing the moisture off her forehead and wincing when she felt the sting. It turned out to be blood, not sweat. "Sweet Maartuz, how did I not notice this?" she gasped.

"Don't worry. It looks very minor." Malchior said as he and Rorek converged on her.

"Head wounds always bleed a lot." Rorek supplied, holding a hand over her forehead. She winced as his healing spell sped up her body's own capabilities. Various bits of her let out veritable screams of protest and for one brief moment she thought she might black out from the pain. Contrary to popular belief, magical healing does _not_ feel good. Its primary method is to simply grant the body the strength and encouragement to get everything mended naturally – but at a very accelerated rate. And what does the body do when it's healing? Hurt. Doing a healing all by magic rather than letting the body – which already knows what to do – fix things itself would require a spell more complicated than the overall workings of a modern Titan communicator just to close up a simple cut.

But after it was done the pain was gone save for a dull throb her mind wasn't entirely sure it should be letting go of so swiftly.

"You should have let me do that." the present medical sorcerer stated reproachfully. "Healing is no simple feat. You can do a lot of irreparable damage with the simplest mistake."

"Understood." Rorek responded mildly. "But Lady Raven's own healing rate is particularly potent. A general strengthening and accelerating technique is all she needs. Even for a cracked rib and a fractured shoulder blade."

"Yes, well…all the same…I do have a lot of experience here." he said, a bit flustered.

"As do I, Serrah. On battlefields, no less. I assure you, I would not have made the attempt if I did not feel myself competent." Rorek told him respectfully. "I believe Sir Damien might require your more specified capabilities, however."

"Oh! Yes! My apologize, Acolyte Crux!"

"Dang, Raven, that was pretty impressive." Nightwing said. He gave her a broad grin, "Hey, maybe _I'm_ a better teacher than I thought too. How much have you been practicing all those moves I showed you?"

"Frequently. Though only on practice robots and punching bags and only to stop myself getting bored with traditional cardio and weight-training exercises." she admitted.

"You didn't think it would stick?" he asked her with a smirk. "Raven, when you perform moves like that often enough then it's your body that starts to remember them so your head doesn't have to. It sticks in your muscles so you are able to do them without thinking and therefore do them fast and instinctively."

"I guess I never really thought about it. It was just exercise to me." she mused.

"It paid off." Nightwing said. "Alright, so there's definitely a lot of room for improvement. But what you lacked in grace and skill you made up for in power, speed, and stamina."

"Also a bloody-minded refusal to stop until he got you out of the ring." Malchior grumbled. "Don't do that again, alright? Pain is there for a _reason_ and a friendly spar is not the time or place to ignore it."

Raven shrugged. "I didn't feel the pain. I was too focused."

"And there is no such thing as too much focus." came a dry, clipped voice that Raven had _no_ trouble recognizing. She turned and the hovering Starfire moved out of the way to reveal a tall, aged woman with her iron gray hair up in a severe bun and her piercing blue eyes fixed on Raven. There was a permanent scowl on her face, an expression that gave credence to the old axiom 'your face will get stuck like that' due to its lack of alteration even on the rare occasions when the woman was pleased. She was pleased now. You could tell if you knew the woman and listened for it in her voice. "You've clearly been keeping up with your meditation. Well done, Roth."

"Thank you, Grandmaster Zephyr." Raven said, nodding her head.

"Show's over. Back to training!" the Grandmaster commanded, dispersing the crowd almost immediately. She turned her attention back on Raven. "You almost defeated Crux." she half-accused. "And you were only barely a Trainee before you left. I would say that is not normal, but you have never been 'normal', have you? The Patriarch tells me your power has increased and you may be in need of extra training. Though I gathered you were intending to train in magic, yes?"

"Yes, Grandmaster. Magic is my natural talent."

"_Huh_." was her derisive response. "I don't know what you said to Astrid but she's got it in her head that _she'll_ be training you. I suggest you get all that sorted out with Patriarch Zanith. In the meantime, YOU!" She rounded on Nightwing like the snap of a bowstring. Nightwing jumped.

"Uh, yes?"

"Unless you intend to spend more than a month in this realm honing your psychic power you will get back to your meditation this instant and you will stay there until I tell you to leave! You want to fly? I'll do it in three days but _only_ if you do what I tell you when I tell you and _don't_ allow yourself to be so easily distracted! Do you hear me?-!"

"Yes Ma'am!" Nightwing squeaked.

"_What_?-!"

"Y-yes Grandmaster!" he amended with a Career-level instinct for survival. He bolted.

"I guess we should get word back to Kid Flash that we'll be here for three days." Raven mused.

"Oh yes!" Starfire exclaimed. "If Nightwing learns to fly it will be glorious!"

"Why you did not think to teach me the psychic method of flight?" Rorek asked Raven curiously.

"Because I don't know it." she answered. "I told you, my ability to fly is natural. I was doing it before I even learned to walk. In fact I had to be trained to walk _without_ flying. Besides, Grandmaster Zephyr is one of the best teachers in the Citadel. She has a strange knack of finding the right method of teaching for each individual student and using it. _I_ certainly couldn't have gotten you flying in only three days."

"Ah, I see."

"I'll go find Cyborg." Raven said.

(O)

They _were_ able to get some signal between realms, but only Cyborg's wrist could manage it and even then he kept getting random interference.

"So it looks like we'll be hanging out here for—"

"Don't go down there! It's dark!"

"Gah!"

"What? What was that?"

"Bugs Bunny. Anyway, think you can handle things?"

"Sure, no problem. Jinx says she'll—"

"You don't say, you don't say!", "Who was it?", "He didn't say."

"Oh for the love of—"

Kid Flash was laughing. "Someone's just accused the Martian Manhunter of being a prank on live television!" he exclaimed.

"Probably best if we just e-mailed from here on out." Cyborg sighed.

"Got it. Later."

Cyborg closed his wrist screen. "So, any particular reason we're staying?" he asked.

"Nightwing made the mistake of telling Grandmaster Zephyr he wanted to learn how to fly. Now she's sequestered him for non-stop training." Several on-lookers winced and groaned with sympathy. "We'll be lucky to see either hide or hair of him until she's done."

"Good thing I'm having so much fun, then! How about you? You look like you've had a workout. Smell like it too."

"You're just jealous that I _have_ a body odor."

"No way, man. Coolant beats sweat glands any day. For one thing it works even in humidity."

"Alright, you win. I'll catch up with you later. Try not to let them keep you up all night."

She left the laboratories and made her way back to the gym. Before she knew it Damien was suddenly there, walking alongside her.

She stopped and stared at him in some surprise. "Did you follow me?"

"Yes. I was hoping to speak to you alone."

"Oh." _Why?_ It wasn't as though they knew each other very well. Why start now?

"Perhaps we can take the long rout back?" he suggested.

She nodded. There didn't seem any polite way out of this. 'Because I don't want to' certainly wasn't a good enough reason. What did they have to talk about? Besides the obvious, of course.

"You're different." he began.

"Am I? How can you tell?" She winced. That hadn't come out right. But he didn't take offense. Instead he gave her a small smile.

"Well, you're actually talking to me for one."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, alright, but be fair; I didn't talk to anyone much back then." she pointed out.

"I suppose not."

"Nothing like being the daughter of the very inter-dimensional demon your home world was founded to destroy to put a slight crimp in your social life."

Damien stopped and stared at her in stunned amazement for a moment, and then he gave a very light chuckle. A few people gave him a look of alarm and then hurried on as though whatever he had might be contagious. Apparently he wasn't known for easy laughter.

"Fair enough, fair enough." he admitted good-naturedly. But then he sobered back up. "Is that why you always kept to yourself?"

She shrugged. "I guess that was part of the reason. But mostly it's because, when I was very young, I didn't have very good control over my powers. I wasn't really allowed to play with anyone my own age; it was too dangerous. So by the time I had enough control not to go blasting my peers out the window I suppose I was sort of in the habit of being alone. I didn't know how to talk to people my own age; I didn't really know how to _be_ my own age. All those things you learn as a child, the things no one tells you and are never actually written down, I had to learn as an adult. And, mentally, I was an adult long before my body began the tiresome process of adolescence. It was necessary." she explained. "It was the Titans, Starfire and Beast Boy mostly, who helped me learn the things I should have as a child."

"It seems almost pathetic that all the Grandmasters and Magisters who trained you couldn't give you something as basic as a childhood." Damien mused.

"Azar did her best. But otherwise…I'm not sure how _possible_ it would have been. In truth, I'm grateful for the severe conditioning I received. Considering my circumstances, especially at present, the alternative would have been so much worse."

"If that is what you believe then I will not argue. Still, you've suffered a great deal for something that was in no way under your control. It does not seem fair." he said.

Raven shrugged. "Life isn't fair." she said. "Life, the universe, and everything _doesn't care_ what's fair and what isn't. You can either spend your time bemoaning the fact or get over it and get on with things. What good does complaining do? Besides, I'm happy enough on Earth. And if it hadn't been me then it would have been someone else and they'd be making the same complaint, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose I still have some maturing of my own to do." Damien mused.

There was silence between them for a few minutes as they passed a group of chattering girls who were, fortunately, too preoccupied with themselves and each other to pay them much mind.

"You do remember we were engaged, right?" he asked. He was trying to be light and joking about it, maybe even humorous. But light and joking didn't really suit him very well and it only made it worse.

"I remember." she answered gently. "I also remember we broke it off."

"You broke it off." he corrected softly. "My…family chose to see it as an extended engagement."

Raven resisted the urge to snort aloud. She knew darn well what 'family' Damien was talking about. Madam Crux was well-known for her controlling nature. It was a character flaw that was tolerated only minimally in Azarath and was likely one of the many reasons she did not become a Matriarch after her mother-in-law as she'd been aiming for.

Raven took a moment to marshal her response. The first words that came to mind would _not_ have been appropriate, even if they were in a language Damien couldn't possibly know. So she backtracked, calmed herself down, and was able to express herself in a far more calm and far less insulting manor. "I do not have a problem with people arraigning my life for me," she began smoothly, "I mean, it saves me having to do it myself. But I have news for your family – or rather that particular part of your family to whom you are referring: My knowledge and consent are necessary. I have my own obligations and intentions for the future of my life; a future that is going to be on Earth, for the most part. And if your mother has a problem with it," she gave Damien a bright smile as the words suddenly popped into her head and then out of her mouth, "she is welcome to take it up with my father."

Damien's jaw dropped. He stopped mid-step and goggled, actually _goggled_, at her for a full five seconds before saying, in his usual mellow voice, "I will give you ten blood rubies if you'll say that to my mother's face."

She grinned, "If I find myself in your mother's face then I promise to do so."

"That may happen sooner rather than later. Once word gets back to her that you've returned she plans on starting…preparations." he confessed with a grimace.

"Then maybe you'd better give her a call and tell her yourself."

A slow, guilty smile made its way across his face. He cleared his throat. "'I'm sorry, Mother. Raven has informed me that she has made her own arraignments and has told me to tell you that if you have a problem with it you are to take it up with her father.'"

Raven shook her head. "No, no. You're grinning too much! And you've started snickering. Even if Azarath were still using audio-only communication you'd be in trouble. You have to say it in your usual clear, calm, matter-of-fact voice. If you do it in that tone then she's going to pick up on the barb right away and you don't want that. You want it to take her a minute to figure it out. Try again."

(O)

It was fairly late in the day. The gym was almost bare now but there was still plenty to do even though the Masters and Grandmasters had all gone (Grandmaster Zephyr had taken Nightwing with her, though). Rorek was currently practicing a kata that one of the Careers had shown him, Starfire and Malchior were having a friendly spar – though it wasn't working too well since neither of them could seem to keep their feet on the ground like they were supposed to – and Beast Boy had all but passed out. He'd been dragged off to visit the baths by his new friends. Apparently they were going to buy him a spa treatment as a thank-you.

He was the first to spot Raven's return.

She was with Damien Crux.

Rorek's eyes narrowed but he kept this information to himself, knowing that Malchior would take one look at this scene and leap to the most obvious conclusion. Especially since the two of them were laughing and smiling. Well, Raven was. It took a moment to see that Damien was as well since the change was minute.

They'd been suspicious of that boy already, but, unlike Malchior, Rorek was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Raven was _not_ blushing. That was a good sign. If she has any romantic interests in this boy she'd either be bright red or have closed herself up and wouldn't be smiling or laughing quite as easily.

He discretely made his way towards the pair of them, though he kept himself out of sight behind training structures and the various trees that littered the gym. They were not real trees, but they were very adequate and functional fakes. He soon got close enough to hear what they were saying, which was farther than most humans needed to be. Being a dragon certainly had its advantages, even in human form.

"Sweet Maartuz, you are _terrible_ at this!" Raven exclaimed. "You can't laugh, alright? Not even a little! You _have_ to keep a straight face."

"I know, I know. I simply can't get over the fact that I am preparing to, in a vague, round-about way and no offense meant, tell the dictator of my life that you told her to go to hell." Damien Crux responded. "Don't get me wrong; I love my mother, I do, but she can be a bit…"

"Overbearing?" Raven finished.

"Let's just say she did not get her unfortunate reputation for no good reason. For the most part it's just easier all around if the family does what she wants, or at least pretends to. I _did try_ to tell her that our engagement was cut off, not simply _postponed_, but she doesn't always listen too well to things she doesn't want to hear. Even so, I'll never understand how she managed to get around the believed fact of your death for all these years. I suppose, in a way, I should be grateful. It meant that, at the very least, she didn't go looking for someone else for me to marry."

"Why did she want you to marry me in the first place? It's not as though we had much to do with one another…"

"Yes, but, by your own admission, you didn't have much to do with anyone." Damien sighed and shrugged. "If you want my rather ungenerous but honest opinion: I think it was because she mistook your respectful demeanor and reclusiveness as timidity. She thought you would be an easy daughter-in-law to control." he explained. "I don't think the whole 'daughter of an inter-dimensional demon' part really crossed her mind."

"Really? That's almost complementary. But I'm afraid I'm a lot more outspoken now than I used to be. I doubt she's going to want me for a daughter-in-law any more once she finds this out."

"That's extremely likely. Incidentally I have been contemplating an extended trip to Earth to assist in the battle against the Church of Blood. And, perhaps, not coming back."

_Time ate his children…_ Rorek thought. Overbearing parents lose their children one way or another.

"_Alright, so their engagement is off. They're still __**talking**__ to one another!"_ Malchior growled. Looked like Rorek hadn't been keeping as much of this to himself as he should have. Malchior was already in the process of stopping his spar in order to approach them with every intention of tearing the two of them apart. Or tearing something, anyway.

"_Don't, Malchior."_ Rorek warned, presenting a list of reasons why ripping Damien Crux into pieces would not be a good idea. Said list included an irate Raven, the hinted fact that the boy has no personal intention of pursuing the engagement since it had been arraigned by his overbearing mother, and a vague notion that the two of them had something in common with him. EG: Overbearing mother. _"Besides,"_ he began reasonably, _"Even if he does feel some attraction for Raven, befriending him will make it very difficult for him to justify a personal pursuit for the woman we obviously desire. Such a betrayal will not sit well with his noble spirit."_

That caused Malchior to pause.

"_You are a manipulative little bastard, you know that?"_

"_Coming from you, dear brother, I take that as a complement."_ Though knowledge of just who Rorek was manipulating he was keeping locked up deep down in his head where Malchior couldn't find it.

Damien was still talking. "Would it be possible for me to become a Teen Titan?"

"Very possible, so long as you don't mind following Nightwing's lead. There are Titans all over the world, but what separates a Titan from any other teenage superhero is the unspoken agreement that Nightwing is at the top of a hierarchy we only sort of possess." Raven explained. "I was under the impression that Patriarch Zanith intended for the amount of field agents to increase exponentially in order to seek out and destroy the Church of Blood."

"He is, but that is going to take time to organize. Besides, as I've said, I'm intending to take a leaf out of your book and make Earth my home…if I can."

"Your mother isn't going to like that…"

"My mother isn't going to find out until it's too late. I am more concerned about living arrangements."

"That's something you'll need to discuss with Nightwing. Short-term it's likely you'll be asked to join Lady Eisen in Gotham where we believe the Church of Blood has set up a headquarters. Long-term, however…well, I know the Titans Europe is desperate for more members. You'll be more than welcome."

"It sounds like an adequate plan to me. Though I don't know how much I'll be able to contribute financially. There is not much I feel I can rightfully claim as my own."

"Oh I think you'll be surprised. Half a handful of Azarathian blood rubies was all that was needed to build the first T-Tower _and_ keep it going for some time. Gemstones are a lot more valuable on Earth than they are in Azarath. Particularly the rubies."

"That's what the field agents tell us, but I suppose I never quite appreciated just how much _more_ value they had. You built an entire structure with only 8 or 9 rubies?"

"Yes we did."

"I have a hard time believing that. How large were the rubies?"

"About the size of your thumb. Standard size."

"Are we talking about gemstones?" Rorek came in, deciding he'd had enough eavesdropping. Besides, Malchior was at his heels and Rorek wasn't entirely sure he could trust his brother not to do any tearing regardless.

"Malachite, goshenite, moonstone, blood rubies, and diamonds are the standard denominations of currency in Azarath." Raven told him. "One malachite stone is worth about as much as a quarter on earth, one goshenite is around 10 dollars, one moonstone is 30, one blood ruby is 60, a star blood ruby is 120, and a diamond is 240. Gemstones are incredibly common here, especially malachite and goshenite. It's because gemstone-rich islands keep emerging from the gravity nexus and do so with greater frequency than the nutrient-rich islands that the farms and greenhouses would greatly prefer." she explained.

Malchior translated all these denominations in Rorek's head for him, but he knew them already. Raven had explained after he'd pawned that bronze amulet in order to buy her the knife she'd been wanting.

"And these gemstones are the size of one's thumb?" Rorek asked.

"Yes, there's a standard size and cut for these stones that are meant to indicate they are money rather than material or jewelry." Raven explained.

"Are those the only gemstones Azarath produces?"

"Oh no, those are just the most common." she answered.

"Really? How much is gold worth here?" Malchior asked.

"Even more than it is on Earth, since the gravity nexus had yet to produce any islands with that particular metal ore. What gold we have comes from Earth." Damien answered.

"And so how many gemstones could we get with this?" Rorek asked, producing a solid gold coin.

Damien's eyebrows went up, which was quite a bit of expression for him. "Several diamonds at least. Especially if that's pure gold."

"It is."

"Can I buy that off you? I'm going to need something to distract my rather overbearing mother in the near future. What kind of gemstones are you interested in?"

"Blood rubies and diamonds, for preference." Malchior answered. "Though I'm rather fond of malachite, myself."

"I'll get them. You're staying for three days, right?"

"It appears so, yes." Rorek came in.

"Good. I'll have them by the day after tomorrow at the latest."

"Smashing." Malchior said.

"Good luck with your mother." Rorek said. "If she is anything like ours then you are going to need it."

"If she's anything like ours he's going to need a cast-iron frying pan."

"Malchior…"

"And a pair of red-hot slippers,"

"Malchior."

"A set of silver hands,"

"Malchior!"

"Some barbed wire,"

"Are you done yet?"

"And a lot of fire."

"Anyway,"

"Lots and _lots_ of fire."

"That's enough!"

"And mustard."

"You can stop now." Raven cut in.

Damien was chuckling, though. "Alright, the frying pan, red-hot slippers, barbed wire, and fire I think I can understand. But I'm having trouble figuring out why the silver hands and the mustard would be necessary." he admitted.

Raven, who likely knew very well what Malchior was referring to with the mustard, at least, told him, "You don't want to know. It'd take some time to explain."

(O)

They'd had a long day in the gym and it was evening now. Time to get a bath in, check on the kids to make sure they were settling in alright (Marlen Zanith had offered to personally see to their arrangements), reiterate that Melvin's friends were to stay hidden unless otherwise instructed by a Master or Enchanter, get ready for bed, deal with Malchior,

"Malchior, get out of my bed."

"Oh is this your room?"

"You know, if you were a monk or official sorcerer here you could get into a heap of trouble for this. Out."

"Oh very well."

And then get to sleep. She was very tired so this wasn't a problem at all.

(O)

"**There's a better way.", "The edge breaks the circle.", "Become like me.", "Time eats his children.", "The edge carves the circle."**

"**Stop…"**

"**It's a warning.", "The circle binds the light.", "Know your tools.", "Child of the child of…", "Circle, edge, light.", "You will be me.", "There's a better way. One way for all."**

"**No, leave me alone!"**

"**2nd generation.", "The circle magnifies the light.", "Hear me.", "Hide your teeth.", "Time lost wisdom.", "The first escaped.", "The light dulls the edge.", "A protection."**

"**Stop it! Stop it! There are rules! You said there were rules! Leave me alone!"**

"**Find the iron of the mind.", "The light sharpens the edge.", "Know your tools.", "Child of the child of Pahmonah…", "It's a warning."**

Her eyes fought to open in the dreamscape, fought to open in the real world but she couldn't seem to wake her body. She could still hear the voices. She sat up in her dreamscape bed, feeling as though she was wading through water. She clapped her hands over her ears in an attempt to block the voices but it didn't work. "Stop! Leave me alone!" she cried out.

She felt…something. Something was _in_ her dreamscape. Not just in her dreamscape, but inside the tower, inside Malchior's circle.

"MALCHIOR!" she screamed desperately. But he wasn't there. She hadn't given her permission back to him. She fought to wake up, still hearing the voices. She began to panic. Whatever was here was looking for her. She threw herself out of her bed and tried to get to the window. She felt like she was fighting to get through a tub of gel. "Malchior! Rorek!" she screamed, knowing it would be no use. She had to wake up! Why couldn't she wake up?-!

It was getting closer. Sheer terror was taking over now. Her dreamscape wasn't working the way it should. Why? What was going on?-!

Something was in her dreamscape. It was invading her very mind, trying to find her, trying to take over.

Somewhere down, deeper than the terror and far more powerful, her rage began to rise up. It devoured her fear, devoured her panic, turned her mind into the razor edge of a predator, and it _snarled_.

"_**My dreamscape. My rules."**_ said The Other. _**"First rule: **__**I'm**__** the predator. **__**You're**__** the prey. **__**I**__** hunt. **__**You**__** run. Start now."**_

But there were strong thoughts fighting to be heard. Thoughts that would not be denied. _Flee!_ they cried. _I can't fight a god!_

God…the word made her pause. Another snarl. The Other didn't _do_ fear, but there was such a thing as self-preservation. On the other hand, hunting a god could be fun.

_It could be death too!_

More likely death, she had to admit.

Perhaps waking up would be a good idea now that she had a hold of her own consciousness.

(O)

Raven sat bolt upright in bed. The first thing she did was to make sure she was still her (well, the her that called itself 'Raven' rather than 'The Other' anyway), and the second thing she did was take a look at her dreamscape.

There was a gouge, like a wound, that cut across Malchior's circle, slicing into the roses as it did so. _An edge breaks the circle…_

And the god was still there. She couldn't see it, but she could definitely feel it. It was still in her dreamscape. Still in her mind. Still looking for her.

(8)

A/N: ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER! Sort of…I think…we'll just call it a cliffhanger anyway!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
If you don't stop that the words 'fish brain breath' are going to become implanted in my head.

Old fairy tale references FTW!


	39. Bribe

A/N: I am not apologizing. For anything. Ever.

Cat: You forgot to change my litter box.

OMIGOSH I'M SORRY! (Rushes off)

Cat: Well that lasted all of 2 seconds.

(8)

_What was I meant to learn from my battle with Iizaldwiin? Madam Crow had the answer. She explained to me that the powerful were judged far more harshly for their mistakes than the weak. They had to be. Power was at once a curse and a blessing. The greater your ability to influence the world around you the greater the damage you could do. And dragons were very powerful. It could be said that they were only a step away from becoming gods; some of them clinging to their mortality by the very tips of their claws, knowing what could so easily happen to them if they fell the rest of the way. The Scriptures that were both law and faith to the dragons were all that stood between them and the Sin of Gods. And when they broke these laws, defied their Scriptures, denied Iiam Bormah and the words of Maartuz, then they could not be allowed to live because of the inevitable conclusion. The powerful do not get as much mercy and freedom as the weak._

_Yet there is a different kind of freedom within the Scriptures. There was the freedom to be, to live, to find joy in small things and self-worth in labor. To find the proper sort of pride, the beautiful pride, the pride of one's work, of one's life, of one's mate and offspring, of one's very existence. This pride, pride without arrogance, pride risen from good and not evil, the pride that walks hand-in-hand with humility, was what it was to be a true Dovah._

_It took me a long time to truly understand what she meant and why, somehow, these words ceased my emerald nightmares._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 39 – Bribe**

The bed was, fortunately, made up of two mattresses. They were thin mattresses, yes, but they were also twin-sized, which didn't make them nearly wide enough for the twins. They were sleeping in the same room. They were NOT going to sleep on the same bed. So they pulled the mattresses off the bed and arraigned them on the floor with some extra pillows and blankets instead. It was comfortable enough.

Malchior was still having issues.

He had gotten so used to sleeping in Raven's dreamscape that he couldn't seem to get any real rest without it. Oh he'd made his own; another grassy field with plenty of flying space. But it just wasn't the same. It wasn't _hers_. _She_ wasn't there.

"_Spoiled."_ Rorek snarled. Malchior was taken aback by the bitterness in his silfron's voice, though Rorek was trying to hide it. Wordless thought passed between them. Memories, most of them focused on Raven, flitted in and out of what might have been a conversation, but was something more like two minds sorting through things as though they were one.

There was Malchior's teaching, there was his time spent in Raven's room, there was his presence in her dreamscape, the way she'd fallen asleep in his arms back in Europe, how she always hesitated to touch Rorek but never Malchior. And then there was that kiss just last night when she'd gone to thank Malchior but not Rorek – though that part was mitigated somewhat by the fact that Rorek had been asleep and she hadn't wanted to wake him. All the same, it felt so much like Malchior was the favorite.

"_Look, she's comfortable with me!"_ Malchior came back defensively. _"__She knows me, she's known me for much longer. We have a history. Alright, not a good one, but we got through that and it made us close. Give it time. Raven needs time for things like this. The only reason she didn't invite you into her dreamscape is because she didn't think to. And did you ever think to tell her up front that you __**want**__ her to touch you? My guess is that she's respecting your personal boundaries."_

He felt Rorek's sudden stab of desperate longing as keenly as if it were his own. This was because, in a way, it was something they shared even when they'd been separate. Rorek hadn't been the only one longing for a mate, a wife. Malchior had suffered a similar loneliness. He had thought to find a mate of his own but…it never seemed to work out.

How much easier was this for human men (and women, too, come to that) who could delude themselves into believing sex was all they really needed? It was enough to make Malchior envious. Dragons, the Dov, couldn't think like that. They couldn't separate an act of bonding from the bond itself. Oh it was possible, but Dovah were far too closely linked to deep magics. Sex was a joining of flesh, a sharing of blood, of your very _self_. When it came to the deep magics – where such things not only mattered but tended to be some sort of foundation of power – this was _dangerous_. And so, perhaps as a means of self-preservation, dragons did not feel lust for anyone they would not bond with first. The desire for companionship came before the desire for sex.

Vague memories of times long past, times even before Rorel's recollection, were rising to the surface. They were hard to grasp because of how distant they were but they were there. There had been females…dragons usually, but…but…

A promise. There had been…a prophecy? Some sort of promise. The promise of a woman, of a mate, and it had carried so much significance then but now he couldn't…he couldn't remember. He had been promised something but…but there had been a condition, so it probably didn't matter now. Whatever this condition had been, he had undoubtedly broken it.

"_Do you think, perhaps, we've become a bit obsessed?"_ Rorek wondered mildly.

"_A bit?"_ Malchior snorted back.

"_Our very existence in this world, in this time, has come to revolve around one woman. I am not certain this is entirely healthy. For us or her."_

"_You're probably right."_ But what could he do about it? Raven was the very glue that kept him together these days. She was his sanity, his reason for life. It was hard to think of anything else. What else was there for them in this world? What point was there for such a twisted, warped creature as they to exist in this time, or anywhere really? Alright, so there was this battle against Blood Magic. But after that?

He remembered his time in the book, how dream-like it had all been as he sought ways to pass the time as a means of fighting off the endless boredom and the sense of dull lifelessness that had crept over him after only the first century. Then he felt her touch, felt the power and energy seep through her fingers into his pages, giving him the ability to speak. She was the first real thing the world had given him in over a thousand years.

And then, like the dread dragon he had become, he used her and betrayed her. What a silly child. She'd been nothing to him – nothing but a means to an end. The guilt of this was still eating away at him. He'd do anything to make it up to her.

"_She forgave you."_

"_It's easier to forgive someone else than it is to forgive one's self."_

"_Yes, I think we both understand that quite well, do we not?"_

And then another memory came up. One that stabbed at him almost as harshly.

"_No! Don't go! Come back, please! Please don't leave me alone!-!-!"_

That had been before Vergonda, before becoming Knights. It had been right after Madam Crow had tried to undo their mother's magic. He had flown away…just like that…

"_You weren't yourself then."_ Rorek told him firmly. _"__The pain drove you mad, Malchior."_

"_But not you."_

"_You got the brunt of it. Let go of that undue pride, Malchior. You went mad, it is not your fault."_

"_I allowed myself to break."_

"_She broke you! It was not your fault!"_

He didn't respond. But that wasn't for lack of something to say. It was because someone was shaking him awake. Rorek? No, it wouldn't be him. They were both asleep. Well, their bodies were anyway.

"Rorek! Malchior! Wake up, please!"

_Raven!_

Adrenaline shot through his veins and he sat up so suddenly that Raven jumped, gasping. But one look at her stricken face told him she was already on edge. And scared.

Rorek was up a second after. "What? What is it?" he asked in alarm.

"The circle, in my dreamscape. They broke through."

"They—what?-!" Malchior gasped.

"The circle's broken. They're in my dreamscape now. I tried to fix it but I can't. They even got through the roses. What do I do?"

Malchior couldn't think. His circle, broken? The ultimate protection he could give her had been breached? That shouldn't be possible. Not in a dreamscape. Not by a god trapped in Tartarus.

But there weren't just gods in Tartarus, were there?

"Destroy it." Rorek said, his voice clear and calm as he knelt down next to Raven. "Destroy the dreamscape. Do it now, while you still can. Do you know how?"

Raven shook her head. Rorek reached out and stroked her hair soothingly. "Calm down." he said gently. "It is not hard."

Raven took a deep breath. When she let it out her fear was gone. Just like that. In an instant she had regained her composure. Eyes that had been wide with fright were now clear; focused; ready. Malchior was impressed, and envious. Not just of her, but of Rorek as well. It was all _he_ could do not to scream.

Rorek calmly explained how to destroy the dreamscape. Then Raven did it. All the while Malchior was trying desperately to get a hold of himself. It wasn't working. No god in Tartarus could have broken through the circle. That left only two options: the god wasn't in Tartarus…or it wasn't a god but something else. Something even older.

_Not her, not Raven! Why her?_ he asked the air desperately.

"What do I do now? Make another one?"

Raven's voice, calm and collected once more, pulled him back together. His eyes went to her sharply. "Not unless you let the both of us in this time. And keep it basic so we can watch over you and the circle." he stated. "Don't make a tower. A group of large rocks with a cave in it or something. Small and simple, and you can just block it up when you want to be alone. Until then we'll use the one I made." He was already picking a spot for a new circle. He'd make it big, though he probably didn't need to. Rorek would undoubtedly stay in his human shape.

Raven nodded and held her hand out, preparing to give him the permission he needed to draw her into the dreamscape. It would be better if he showed her how to enter it as though it were her own, but that would take more than just a few hours of a sleepless night to teach. He took her hand and accepted her permission. Then the hold she had gained over herself began to break down. He could see it in her eyes.

"This is bad, isn't it?" she asked.

Rorek put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't think about it now." he said. "Sleep first. The fear will pass and we will have clear minds to deal with the matter."

"_I hope you're right about that because, at the moment, I can't think of any way to 'deal' with something like this!"_

"_Get a hold of yourself!"_ Rorek snapped at him. _"She needs us to be strong for her."_

"_Do you even realize what this means? They broke my circle! They were **in her very mind**!"_

"_In the morning. We will consider this in the morning."_

Raven shook her head. "I won't be able to sleep." she murmured. "Not now…"

Not safe in her own dreams…and how could he fight this? What more could he do? What could _they_ do? They were no match for a god.

Malchior reached out and was surprised by how readily she moved into his arms, curling up in his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. His _bare_ neck. Rorek was more comfortable with his shirt on but Malchior preferred to sleep without unless it was cold. But a dragon's neck was very…_sensitive_, even in human form. The feel of her hair, her breath, the stone of her forehead pressing against it…

The word 'distracting' only sort of managed to cover it. Maybe that was a good thing. It got his mind off the current crisis. Well, for the most part.

He gave Rorek a look over Raven's head. _"If you want her to touch you more often then perhaps you should get over here and show her that you want to be touched."_ Malchior told the white-haired silfron's longing gaze. Rorek did not need telling twice. He moved to sit next to Malchior on the thin mattress and began stroking Raven's hair soothingly. She lifted her head and then removed one arm from Malchior's neck to reach over for Rorek. He complied with her silent entreaty and drew closer so she could cling to the both of them, their arms coordinating seamlessly to wrap around her and envelope her between them.

They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow they found themselves laying down on Malchior's pallet. Raven turned on her side and, while she was facing Malchior, she had one hand clutching the hand of the arm that Rorek had on her side. Malchior could sense Rorek's growing objections but silenced them with the information that Raven was already falling asleep. He pulled her mind into the circle within his dreamscape where he was waiting for her as a dragon. She didn't say anything. She just laid down on the grass and fell fast asleep. He curled up around her the way he always did and waited for Rorek.

He wasn't long.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Right here." Malchior answered, raising a wing to show him the hole in the grass. "We'll take turns watching the circle so we can both get some actual dreaming in."

"Must I be a dragon?" he asked.

"Put it like this: If you were human what would make you feel safer? Sleeping next to a man in armor or sleeping with a protective dragon curled around you?"

"Point taken."

(O)

Rorek woke first. It was early. He reached around behind him and pressed a hand to the floor so he could determine the state of the Citadel by the vibrations. This was only possible to do because the Citadel was crafted out of stone and metal. Oh he could do it in the T-Tower as well, but carpet, wallpaper, and paint got in the way and made it difficult.

There wasn't a lot of activity right now. Good.

Raven shifted around in the night. She seemed to prefer to sleep on her side so she would be facing either Malchior or Rorek. Right now she was wrapped around Rorek with Malchior at her back. Much as he enjoyed this state of affairs, they needed to get Raven back to her room before the Citadel woke up and someone found them like this. He was well aware of just how telling a position they were in regardless of how innocent the dragons' desires had been in comforting her.

Malchior had told him about Raven's dreams some time ago, though the word 'told' wasn't accurate. They had been sharing memories with one another; this had simply been one of the many things Rorek had absorbed and now knew as if it were his own memory as well. It would be hard to explain to anyone else why Rorek had not been alarmed when he learned of it. Perhaps you could say that Malchior had already taken care of the alarmed part and had taken steps to ensure the Lady's safety with the most potent protection possible.

Now, though…

Malchior was right about one thing: Rorek did not have quite the depth of knowledge that he, Malchior, did when it came to deep magics and gods. It was because of that that he had been able to stay calm while Malchior fought his panic.

He pulled back slightly so he could look down at Raven. She looked so peaceful now. He didn't want to wake her but he really needed to. He forced one arm to start doing some actual work and brought it up to her shoulder, which he moved back and forth gently in order to wake her. "Raven," he murmured. "Wake up. You need to be in your own room when the Citadel rises for the morning." he told her.

She mumbled something unintelligible and opened a pair of bleary eyes crusted with sleep. His own eyes might see better in the dark than human eyes, but he wished he had more light so he could see all the colors and shades of her irises. They were like precious stones all on their own, though even they couldn't quite compare with the jewel on her forehead. He wished Malchior could remember what it was he knew about these strange blood diamonds.

He combed his fingers through her hair and encountered snags. Oh well, he pushed what hair he could out of her face and kissed the blood diamond. "Good morning, My Lady" he murmured softly.

She shifted and at first he thought she was disentangling herself from him so she could get up and leave, and then her hands came up to cup his face so she could kiss him.

His brain went foggy. Why had he wanted her to leave again? He must have gone mad or something.

It wasn't like The Other's kiss, but in a way it was better because this time he was able to respond. After the initial shock but before she could pull away he deepened the kiss. Hungrily he claimed her lips as his own, his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her body close to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and made a small sound that sent a shiver down his spine. He was aware of having an extra pair of arms wrapped around her from a different angle. Those arms pulled themselves out of the way and began stroking her up and down her back, pushing into certain places and making little kneading motions. He buried a second face in her hair and inhaled her scent while at the same time his lips were still massaging hers. But his other mouth wanted some attention as well. A hand (he wasn't entirely sure which body it belonged to at the moment) pushed her hair out of the way to expose an ear, which the other mouth nibbled.

She started slightly and broke away only to be turned over by two pairs of arms so the other mouth could reach her lips. He nuzzled her neck, his first face now burying itself in the scent of her hair and her neck. A neck that was rather inconveniently covered by the bodysuit she wore, even to bed. Fingers looked for a way around it and found a small seam at the back kept together by some sort of flexing magnet. It took some effort to coax apart. He managed it with fingers that could have been from either body and his lips found her neck.

Raven gasped and squirmed, but she was pressed between two strong bodies with four hands and arms holding her and touching her in various places. Waist, neck, hair, back, shoulder; never anywhere they should not be, but, perhaps, getting a bit too close in some cases. He began to work on her neck, nibbling and sucking very lightly – not enough to leave a mark. She was _very_ responsive to it too, his other lips tasting the moans and whimpers she couldn't seem to keep from making. In fact, she was a bit _too_ responsive.

He released her mouth in order to ask, "Are you sure you're not ticklish, Love?"

"Rorek!" she gasped out in a hissed whisper.

Rorek? Which one was that again? It took him a few seconds to remember. When he did it felt like some sort of fog had lifted and what had become vague was now clear again. The body called 'Rorek' grinned, gave her one last kiss, and then returned the neck covering to its previous position.

Only then did he remember why he'd woken her up in the first place.

"You should probably return to your own room before the Citadel becomes active." he suggested.

"Five more minutes." Malchior growled, trying to pull Raven in for another kiss. She evaded him and sat up, managing to untangle herself from the unusual amount of arms that'd been wrapped around her. Her cheeks were a most attractive shade of pink, her hair was disheveled, and there was a brightness in her eyes that brought the blue out quite vividly. The overall effect made Rorek very glad that half of him was still covered by a rumpled blanket.

"You're right, I should go back." she mumbled hurriedly. She became a black silhouette that melted out of sight.

Rorek concentrated on getting control of himself. The fact that he was currently sharing a bed with Malchior (who was sniggering) sans-Raven did the trick. He rolled off the mat, a bit irritated.

"_How the hell are you able to stay so…__**calm**__?"_ he demanded. _"Especially with her hands all over your bare neck!"_

"_Easy. I just tell my body it's still paper and it believes me. Otherwise I'd be in worse condition than you."_ the black dragon admitted.

"_We shouldn't have let that happen…"_ Rorek sighed, mentally indicating their little sleepover. They might have far more self-control than most males and, alright, the certain knowledge that Raven would blast them to bits and probably never trust them again in such a precarious situation did help. But this sort of thing did no good for their nerves. Rorek felt like his entire body was being wound up like a bowstring and it was all he could do not to snap. Raven was _very much_ a woman underneath that bodysuit.

"_Nothing __**did**__ happen, though. In this day and age that's positively unusual."_ Malchior pointed out.

Rorek gave his brother a look. _"It would not be if humans were nearly as attuned to the deep magics as we are."_

"_You know, sometimes I wonder about that. Modern thinking indicates that sex and marriage aren't synonymous, but that is a mindset that would get **us** killed – if we're lucky. But, when you consider everything that happens to humans who indulge in the ideal that there will be no consequences, I've come to the conclusion that the deep magics simply take their time with humans in the hopes that they'll wise up and figure it out. Humans have always gotten quite a bit more leniency than any other being. But there is always a price. Everything has a price."_

"_You are deliberately changing the subject."_

"_Look, Raven would not have been able to sleep at all if we'd sent her back to her own room. That's worth dealing with a little…frustration. Don't you think?"_

(O)

The Cathedral had not changed much in seven years. It was still being used for those early risers who wanted to get some pre-breakfast meditation in so they'd be prepared for whatever the day was about to throw their way. It was also there for those who just flat-out needed to meditate and was the favorite haunting place of Grandmaster Zephir. That was why Nightwing was already there when Raven, Malchior, and Rorek came in.

Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Starfire would probably go straight to the mess hall for breakfast once they woke up. After that Cyborg would probably head back to the tech labs, Beast Boy and Starfire would return to the gym, but Raven, Malchior, and Rorek intended to go to the Arcane Sanctuary.

Right now, however, Raven wanted to do as much meditating as she could. She really needed it. And, since it would take more than the magical equivalent of a restraining order to shed her shadows after last night, Malchior and Rorek were coming with her.

As for Red X…she had no idea where he was. She hoped he wasn't causing any trouble. Azarath didn't have much patience for thieves and there were things growing under dead logs that had more sense of humor than the justice courts.

"Raven, Love, I'm going to be honest with you: I feel a bit ridiculous like this." Malchior admitted uncomfortably.

"Everyone else is doing it." Rorek pointed out.

"Oh yes, and historical evidence presents such a positive report about the intelligence of mob rule."

"Nothing's stopping you from going on to the mess hall." Raven informed him.

That shut him up.

She spent a moment explaining the basics to the two dragons hovering on either side of her so they could get started and then she closed her eyes to begin her own meditation.

She began to work backwards through the memories and the emotions they had produced so she could sort through them all. First and foremost was when she'd woken up in Rorek and Malchior's arms with her own arms around Rorek's neck. She'd been sleepy, emotionally fatigued, and just uninhibited enough for the desire to rise up and, finding no reason good enough to stop it, prompt action. She just really, _really_ wanted to kiss him. And then…what had happened? She'd completely forgotten Malchior was there too. But instead of breaking out into a fight as was per-usual the two of them had sort of…collaborated.

It was a bit overwhelming, and yet at the same time their kisses had left her wanting more. But how much more could she possibly want with what was something like 1.8 boyfriend(s)? It was too much – it wasn't enough – she needed some space – she wanted more. She wished she knew more about this stuff.

She managed to clear herself of that strange hunger and turned to the previous events. The fear – the uncertainty –Malchior's terror – Rorek's calm – their knowledge – their comfort. Then she went back further, felt The Other rising up.

_**We should have fought! My mind! My domain! My rules!**_

She dealt with The Other. She still didn't understand what it was. What understanding she thought she had was shifting around. At first she believed it was the demon side of her. Then she thought it was simply the part of her that was simply susceptible to evil and she would always have to fight it. And now? Now she was seeing it as the animal side of her. It was not evil. It _could_ be evil, and then again it could be good as well. Back when the kids had been in danger it was like a wave of force that she had been able to ride and steer. It was…

No, she didn't know what it was anymore. Every time she decided what it was it seemed to change. It was like the study of light; the act of observation changed the thing that was observed. Was it possible that The Other had shed the part of it that was evil? The part that had tried to kill Malchior? What _was_ it?

She'd try to ask Zanith about that later.

Now to deal with the aftermath of losing her dreamscape. She was more than a little upset about that. She'd worked a long time building that up and now there was nothing le—

Hang on, what's that?

There was something in her head.

If you thought of minds as being large houses with memories scattered about the place like furniture then this thing, whatever it was, would have been in the same place that she'd put her dreamscape. If she weren't in a trance it would have scared her half to death on principle. However, her clear mind felt that it wasn't bad or threatening or anything. In fact, it seemed to be shining quite attractively. She studied it, whatever it was, and saw…words.

_Naykronah Hetbriikah Maartuz._

The word 'bribe' came to her, partly from The Other and partly from her own cynicism, before she was even truly aware of what just happened. And it had happened so swiftly and felt so overwhelming that there had been no time for actual experience. To the human mind, record was more important than experience, and so many people only ever get to do the experiencing as a memory. That was what happened here.

In her mind it felt as though there had been…light? Heat? Movement? _Something_ had pushed its way into her head and, somehow, she _knew_ the words. She didn't just know what they _meant_. She knew them as if they were part of her, like an arm or a leg. It felt so strange, and yet…

What just happened?

The god had left that there. _That's_ what happened. The words were hers now. A god had somehow given them to her through her dreamscape. But why?

And then the word 'bribe' came back. Now she was angry, though not nearly as angry as she might be if it weren't for the trance. That was it, wasn't it? They were trying to teach her deep magics as a bribe, weren't they? Then, when that didn't work, here was the Draconic power chant! And she had the sneaking suspicion that it came pre-packaged with the Thu'um too.

But she had not willingly or knowingly accepted this as payment for anything. Was that important to the deep magics? It was for a blood contract. You had to be fully aware of everything it said before you could sign or else all you were doing was giving yourself a nasty cut and making a mess. That meant having to read through the _entire_ contract. More than once, usually.

That was something she would have to ask Malchior and Rorek when they found a place to talk about this in the Arcane Sanctuary.

She had to skim over everything else because she could sense the time she'd requested from the twins was winding down and Malchior was no-doubt getting impatient. So she finished up and opened her eyes. There were quite a few more people in the Cathedral now, but the earliest risers were starting to leave. Nightwing was still there, though. He was sitting on the ground but he wasn't the only one.

So the three of them went on to the mess hall where a healthy variety of simplistic foods were being served. It was mostly vegetables and grains with meat used as an optional flavor rather than an actual side. Malchior was having some issues with that.

"Look, I'm not asking because I'm one of those males who thinks part of masculinity is believing the whole artery-clogging thing is a myth made up by wives and mothers to limit our fun."

"Like a certain metal someone we know?" Raven asked cheekily.

"I'm asking because my body is actually a bit _different_ from yours and my twin and I _do_ need more meat in our diet than do we vegetables." Malchior explained calmly to one of the cooks. "Look, we'll even eat it raw to save you the trouble of cooking it, but we had no meat at all yesterday and if we go too long without we're liable to develop some nasty symptoms such as the shakes, irritability, and fireballs."

"Just give him a lump of charcoal and tell him to deal with it." Rorek suggested.

"You eat charcoal too?" the cook asked, eyebrows raised.

"It does stop the shakes if we have to go a while without enough meat." Rorek explained.

The cook grinned and chuckled with good humor. "I'll see what we've got."

What they had was fish. Whole fish. Raw with the head, scales, fins, and everything. They also added some lumps of coal as a joke. Well, they'd _meant_ it to be a joke. The look on the cook's face when Rorek pulled down his scarf and actually bit into one was absolutely priceless.

They found the table where Cyborg, Starfire, and Beast Boy were already seated and finishing up their own breakfast. "It is wonderful here!" Starfire gushed by way of a 'good morning'. "Everyone is so very helpful and nice!"

"Has anyone seen Red X?" Raven asked.

"Yes." Cyborg answered. He was grinning. "He went to the technology labs with me and was asked to test one of their advanced holding cells. I'm thinking he's still there. Don't worry, I'm sure they're feeding him and there's a small bathroom complete with shower."

Well that was a relief…sort of. Raven sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Tell him that if he wants them to let him out he's going to have to return whatever it was he stole."

Cyborg raised an eyebrow. "So…he's not actually testing anything?"

"No, Cyborg. The advanced holding cells don't need testing because they're in separate small universes connected only to this one by way of tubes that allow the passage of water and electricity. The only way out is by way of portals opened from _this_ side. I imagine the technicians are having a pretty good laugh and taking bets on how long it'll take him to figure out he's actually being held prisoner. They tend to be that sort of people. He's lucky. If they turned him over to the justice courts it wouldn't be funny anymore." she explained.

"Great. I guess he just couldn't resist." Cyborg sighed. "Anyone seen Nightwing?"

"We did. He might still be in the Cathedral meditating." Rorek said.

"How much of that meditating is he going to have to do?" Beast Boy asked.

"Don't know. Everyone has to find their own way to their psychic power. But Grandmaster Zephyr is pretty good. I'm thinking it probably won't take more than three days." Raven answered.

"How about this food, huh?-! It's a vegetarian's dream!" Beast Boy said cheerfully.

"Right…" Cyborg groused.

"Just for that, I'm going to dissect this raw fish in the messiest way possible." Malchior stated.

"Dude! You're not seriously eating that raw are you—you are, aren't you? OH GROSS MAN!-!-! You're not going to eat the brain too, are you?-!"

"Best part. That's where all the endorphins are."

"_Eeeeeeew_!"

"Yummy, fish brain."

Raven sighed and pushed away her plate. She glared at Malchior. "If you don't stop that the words 'fish brain breath' are going to become implanted in my head." and the words which she did _not_ say were, _'And good luck getting any more kisses until it goes away.'_ But she was pleased to see that he seemed to understand because he gave her a sheepish smile and put a stop to his antics.

Rorek reached over and pulled Raven's plate back in front of her. "I know he's being disgusting, but do try to eat."

She shook her head. "No good. I'll just stick with tea today." she said, pulling her mug towards her.

Rorek glared at his brother around Raven's head and the spill words, _'Now look what you've done.'_ passed across her line of sight.

And _then_ the words, _'Bugger off you smug prick.'_ came back the other way. Whaaaa?

Oh great! Now she was reading the spill words they were sending to each other by way of their telepathic link. Hadn't Ru told her that not facing people would make it stop?

No, she'd just said it would help. Daanik!

And then, quite suddenly, Beast Boy was dancing on the table singing at the top of his lungs. "I'M A LITTLE TEAPOT SHORT AND STOUT!"

"He drank the tea, didn't he?" Raven sighed.

Cyborg gave his own mug a look of alarm. "Everyone else is drinking it!" he exclaimed.

"How much have you had?"

"Only half a mug!"

"WHEN I GET ALL STEAMED UP HEAR ME SHOUT!"

"You might be alright then—no, I spoke too soon."

"What? What's happening?"

"JUST TIP ME OVER AND POUR ME OUT!"

"You're…um…vibrating. Would you mind standing up? I'm not sure these benches are made to withstand that sort of thing."

"They're stone."

"THE ITSY BITSY SPIDER CLIMBED UP THE WATER SPOUT!"

"And you're steel."

"Alright, alright. How long is this going to last?"

"DOWN CAME THE RAIN AND WASHED THE SPIDER OUT!"

"Probably until Beast B-Man stops singing."

"Greaaaaat."

"OUT CAME THE SUN AND DRIED UP ALL THE RAIN!"

"How are you holding up, Starfire?"

"I don't feel anything strange."

"AND THE ITSY BITSY SPIDER CLIMBED UP THE SPOUT AGAIN!"

"I certainly do not feel the desire to punish the table with my legs and sing."

"That's a mercy."

Apparently Raven wasn't the only one who hadn't been entirely aware of the strange things that Azarathian mint leaves could do to people who weren't used to it. A few people came over to ask what was going on, which meant Raven had to explain over and over again that, apparently, this was what happened when the unwary outsider sampled their most popular tea. She wasn't the only one who had the 'so just what have we been drinking all our lives?' reaction, either.

(O)

The Arcane Sanctuary was to the magic-users what the gyms and dojos were to the monks. Like the prison cells, it was a whole other universe altogether. It had to be. So much untrained magic running loose trying to _get_ trained would have given Trigon very little to actually destroy by the time he returned. There was only one, though. And it was a bit difficult to navigate since the universe itself had more than four dimensions. Now and again you might find yourself brushing up against some spell that was hanging there in a fifth or sixth dimension. It usually didn't actually _do_ anything, but it could make you feel as though you'd just walked through a ghost.

It would be wrong to say the Arcane Sanctuary resembled Nevermore. It would be more accurate to say that Nevermore resembled the Arcane Sanctuary. It was large and void-like with floating islands of rock, paved and polished stone, optional gravity, and illumination that did not seem to come from any specific source – which meant the existence of shadows could be a bit worrying to anyone who decided to think too hard about that.

There was quite a bit more to it than Nevermore, though. There were people, for one thing. And then there were the large square islands that appeared to be classrooms.

That was new.

They went to the training dimension that was used by advanced students and, as a result, had force fields that could be brought up around the arenas. Since transparent force fields were a bit more difficult to craft – especially at this size – these had the additional bonus of providing the three of them with some privacy.

Raven decided to get the worst bit over by asking them if accidentally accepting a gift from a god without even knowing what it was or being given the chance to refuse meant she had an obligation to said god.

"No. A true gift comes with no obligation whatsoever, and unless the god specified their intent to you then it would be a gift." Malchior stated.

"What is it you were given?" Rorek asked. Both of them looked extremely troubled.

"The…the Draconic power chant." Raven admitted. "Is it supposed to be, um, shiny?" she asked.

"Shiny? Well that's one way to describe it." Malchior answered grimly. "How did you get it?"

"They left it behind in the place where my dreamscape was. Is that even possible?" she asked.

"Honestly, Raven? I'm not even sure what we're dealing with is a god anymore." he told her. "I'm not going to say that I am an expert on what gods can and cannot do, but I know enough to tell you that no god could have broken the circle from within Tartarus. That leaves only two options."

"Which are?"

"Either this god is _not_ in Tartarus, or…" he paused, "or it's something else."

"Something else? What else is in Tartarus?" she asked.

"Unlike gods, they are called something more specific and less generalized. In fact, they have more than one name. But the most well-known of the names they are called would be 'titan'." Rorek explained.

"Oh…as in…"

"As in the predecessors of the gods, yes." Rorek nodded.

"Not all the gods were born from titans. That's the one thing that the Greeks and Romans got right. Some of them came from each other, and then others, who were originally mortals, became gods – don't ask me how." Malchior said. "Always, however, those gods born from the titans were the most powerful."

"According to mythology, though, the gods conquered the titans." Raven pointed out.

Rorek shook his head. "In all but power and origin, they were basically no different from the gods."

"The only difference was that the titans could not have been stopped by mortals, even _with_ the Kel." Malchior explained.

"They _were_ stopped, though. Right?"

"Yes, by one of their own." Rorek answered. "Pahmonah."

"Pahmonah was a titan? I thought you said she was a god." Raven said.

"That is what I meant when I mentioned that the word 'god' was a very generalized term. It would be accurate to say that the titans are simply a more specific kind of god. You could call them the first-generation gods." Rorek explained.

"According to the Draconic histories, Pahmonah and Koraavvah were the only titans who remained faithful to Iiam Bormah and followed His commands. Unfortunately Koraavvah was killed in the battle against their son, Onik. That left only Pahmonah and, at some point or other, Maartuz – though Maartuz is a god. I believe Onik was considered a titan, though. I'm not sure why, but it seems as though some of the titans' children became titans themselves while others became just gods. In any case, the story goes that Iiam Bormah commanded Pahmonah to put an end to the titans by killing those who could be killed and crafting Tartarus for those that couldn't – Tartarus later becoming the prison for the worst of the gods as well. I don't know how it is that some titans and gods can die while others can't, though. Perhaps the others were more powerful and had to be dealt with by Iiam Bormah Himself. We don't know. We know even less about titans than we do about gods. All we really know for sure is that there is a difference between a 'regular' god and one that could be called a 'titan'." Malchior explained.

"And you think a titan could have broken through your circle from Tartarus."

"Either that or a god who _isn't_ in Tartarus. Frankly I'm not sure which is worse." Malchior answered.

"But if this is a god that has neither been sent to Tartarus nor killed by the Kel curse, then what's to say they're not innocent of the Sin of Gods? Couldn't there be other gods out there who stayed true to Iiam Bormah besides Pahmonah and Maartuz?" she asked.

"It is possible," Malchior conceded reluctantly.

"But risky. The damage a dread dragon could do in this time would be great enough. I shudder to think what a god could accomplish." Rorek said.

"Wouldn't Iiam Bormah stop him or her if that is the case?" Raven asked.

"He might, but…"

"Iiam Bormah is not…"

"It is difficult to explain." Rorek completed. "Think about it this way: Iiam Bormah is not a god in the way we know them. He is said to be the same God whom the Christians believe in and in a way that is true."

"But," Malchior came in, "humans being what they are, all the different religions and beliefs and faiths and practices that have risen up over the centuries…well, let's just say that He is and at once is _not_ the same being."

"The Dov never had a religion, as such." Rorek continued. "What we have is Law, and, in a way, it could be considered something like a religion. But I will not go into detail."

"The point we are getting at is, put simply, the price of free will." Malchior came in.

"It all comes down to the price." Rorek said. "_Everything_ has a price. Nothing is free, and all things bear their consequence whether it be good, bad, or just a consequence."

"Not even free will is free." Malchior said grimly. "And that, allowing things to happen, allowing people to make bad decisions, hurting others as well as themselves, allowing chance occurrences, the decline of kingdoms and societies – that is the price of free will; having the free will to choose evil over good. If Iiam Bormah wished for a perfect world He would have made it as such, but that would mean that the people within would all be like golems. Or, in modern terms, robots. We would be slaves in our very minds – if minds we would even still have. No will of our own. No choices of our own. We would make only the choices He makes for us; not because we wanted to, but because we would have no concept of the very idea of doing otherwise. The world would be perfect and good and safe but…how would we know? Would we know anything? No, we wouldn't. We'd be like puppets and dolls doing none of our own thinking bearing no true consciousness."

"I think I understand…" Raven said. "So…what does this have to do with gods?"

"Even gods have free will. And this is exactly the problem." Rorek told her. "Yes, perhaps Iiam Bormah would help, and then again perhaps He won't. Perhaps the help He does give does not come until enough damage is done that the price of our stupidity is fully paid up. The thing is, Iiam Bormah is not a god. It is a lot more complicated than that. It is a lot deeper than that."

"I know you hate rejecting a call for help, Raven, but is this worth the risk?" Malchior asked.

"No," she sighed, "It's not…"

Rorek placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let us begin your training."

She nodded.

(8)

A/N: Ever had one of those days where a cup of Azarathian Mint Tea would be really, really nice? Particularly if you were the one getting everyone's drinks? XD

Coming up in the next chapter:  
It was often referred to as The Great Lute Flop, though that is a more polite translation of the actual language used.

There may or may not be a Squares update tomorrow. I'm still very behind. We'll have to see what turns up.


	40. Citadel Activity

A/N: More filler here. Don't worry, though. Excitement to come in the next chapter! Not too happy about the title but I couldn't think of anything better.

(8)

_As we journeyed further north the climate grew steadily colder and the scent of snow and frost hung in the air like the fog of our breath. I did not like the cold and neither did I enjoy the sight of snow. Madam Crow teased me for this, saying that I had the look of one born of snow and frost. I believe that was when I decided to always wear black somewhere about my person in an effort to be as little like snow as possible. My first article of concession to this new regime was a thick black scarf I purchased from a wandering peddler. It was quite warm and soft against my face. Madam Crow thought I looked dashingly mysterious with the scarf over half my face. It was a sentiment that, coming from her, made me feel just a bit awkward. Up until now she had, for the most part, appeared before me as an older woman and had taken up a position in my life as a beloved mother or aunt – at times appearing so old as to be a grandmother._

_It is not necessarily one's mother that one wishes to find one handsome._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 40 – Citadel Activity**

The force field fell just in time for Rorek to go sailing through the air and, slightly surprised, passing Marlen Zanith and another gentleman. Both of the newcomers were just as surprised as he was. Fortunately he managed to catch himself before he was flung too far.

"Sorry!" Raven called up to him. "I did try to tell you…"

"Yes," he called back. "Our fault, I feel. We underestimated your control."

"I didn't think the pressure would build up that much." Malchior said. He had been able to stay in the arena only because he'd been on ground level and managed to cling to the stone by digging his nails (which he turned to claws) into it. There were about 8 very long gouge marks to attest to this.

Rorek turned to the newcomers. "Good to see you again, Messer." he said, nodding to Zanith. "I apologize for rushing past you but I was expecting the wall to catch me."

The Patriarch chuckled and Rorek noticed a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "No harm done. At least you didn't rush _into_ us." he said. He then nodded to the robbed man hovering next to him. "This is Magister Audren. He is here to train Raven."

"Really? I heard tell where Grandmaster Astrid sought to be her trainer." Rorek said, trying not to smile too obviously.

The Magister scoffed. "Raven may have trained as a monk but she is a sorceress, through and through." he stated, waving a hand airily.

"Indeed, though from what I saw only yesterday I might venture to point out that she would make quite a potent monk as well. It occurs to me that one could benefit from both disciplines." Rorek said, still entirely polite and respectful.

"Then you clearly do not appreciate the complexities of the arcane arts. Full dedication is an absolute necessity for true mastery."

_Only because you make it more complicated than it needs to be._ he thought as Malchior and Raven flew up to join them.

Rorek got the impression that Zanith was quite looking forward to whatever was going to happen next. The Magister did seem a bit pompous to him, but he probably didn't deserve what Malchior was going to do to him if the whole ridiculous notion of Raven's training being left up to anyone else wasn't dropped like the sack of rubbish it was. The word 'territorial' almost covered it, but there were a few corners showing.

"I apologize for the interruption, but Magister Audren is here to train you, Raven." Marlen Zanith said.

"She's being trained. By us." Malchior stated, his eyes flashing dangerously as they fixed on Audren.

The Magister opened his mouth to protest, but, to Zanith's covert disappointment, some instinct and sense of self-preservation informed Audren that, no, he _didn't_ want to be burned alive and have his ashes scattered across three different universes. Thanks all the same. So whatever he was really going to say got twisted around into, "A-ah. Right. Then perhaps I might assist in some way?"

"Thank you very much, Serrah, but I believe we have a sufficient means of progress." Rorek said before Malchior could open his mouth for a flat-out 'no'. "We will let you know if we find ourselves lacking in anything."

Malchior snorted derisively and Raven gave him a smack upside the head. It had about the same damaging effect as a gnat's wing on a tortoise shell, but it got the point across. "Behave." she admonished.

"Yes, Love."

Magister Audren coughed. "Well, I shall be off then."

When he had flown an adequate distance from the party, Raven rounded on Zanith. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and looking stern.

Zanith laughed. "Oh come on, Raven. Can't an old man have his fun? I've had precious little time for mischief these past few years. I haven't even managed to find a sufficiently amusing time to mistakenly refer to my robes a dress in over a decade."

Rorek chuckled. "I remember robes." he said. "Never could get use to them. I continuously felt as though I should be trading fashion tips with sorceresses."

"I remember when the sorcerous skirts were in fashion. That was a good time." Malchior mused.

"Oh? Why?" Rorek asked suspiciously.

"Because it was _just_ the skirts that were fashionable. If the females wore anything up top it was this narrow strip of—"

"Yes, alright!" Rorek snapped, embarrassed. _"__You are shameless, aren't you?"_ he snapped at his brother, though Patriarch Zanith was chuckling.

An image of Raven wearing a long black skirt with blue embroidery and a very small blue breast band slipped into his mind. He mentally slapped it away before it could do the intended damage.

"Why did Magister Audren want to train me?" Raven asked, pointedly changing the subject. "He only ever did so on sufferance before now."

"That is because, before, you were the daughter of Trigon. Now you are the conqueror of Trigon." he told her. "I have had no less than 5 Grandmasters and Magisters veritably _demanding_ the right to oversee the training you have returned to obtain."

"I didn't come back for training. I came back because I was asked to and my friends wanted to see where I grew up. The training part is just sort of happening." she explained.

"Of course, of course. I will simply tell them that you have made your own arrangements. But could I request that you spend at least a few hours with Grandmaster Astrid? If only to get her out of my study?" he asked almost pleadingly.

Raven considered this, grimaced slightly, but nodded.

"Thank you! I shall leave you to your own devices then."

(O)

Starfire and Beast Boy were sticking together and either wandered around or allowed themselves to be urged to various gyms and dojos. They seemed to be having fun. When the Titans (well, most of them) reconvened at lunch, Starfire chattered away with great enthusiasm about all the new friends she was making. Beast Boy was checking his hair with his spoon, smoothing down some of the more problematic tresses with spit. Cyborg was fairly preoccupied and was favoring the color green today. Raven wondered if he was changing his colors to show off to the technicians.

Damien came over and asked to sit with them. Rorek indicated the place next to him and they introduced him to Cyborg, who hadn't been there when he challenged Nightwing or offered to help Raven brush up on her hand-to-hand.

"Would someone mind explaining this whole Acolyte/Enchanter/Career deal to me?" Cyborg demanded.

"They're levels of proficiency and, as a result, status. Both monks and sorcerers have the same beginning titles. The first is Initiate, second is Novice, third is Trainee, and then, once you graduate from Trainee, you are considered a full monk or sorcerer. If you decide to continue your education then you are called a Career. That's when the titles split between monks and sorcerers. The next levels for the monks are Acolyte, Master, and then Grandmaster. For the sorcerers it's Enchanter, Magister, and Archmage – though there's only one Archmage and Patriarch Zanith is it."

"So what were you before you left?" Cyborg asked.

"Career." she answered.

"What, really? I'd have figured Enchanter at least." Cyborg said.

"I might be that now, but Azarath has high standards. It's much easier to go from Trainee to Career than it is to go from Career to Enchanter or Acolyte." she told him.

"Is it? I did not find it so difficult." Damien said.

"Unless you're one of those annoying people who's good at everything." Raven added.

"Yeah, some of us actually have to put in a lot more effort, don't we Rorek?"

"Some of us do not give up out of frustration after the first five seconds, Malchior."

"I am sensing a story here." Damien observed. "Care to share?"

"It was often referred to as The Great Lute Flop, though that is a more polite translation of the actual language used." Rorek chuckled. "Malchior continuously broke the strings."

"They were flimsy! I swear that woman made them like that on purpose!" Malchior exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "And she kept laughing! A proper mother figure, I _don't_ think!"

"Mother figure? Madam Crow?" Raven asked.

"Yes, that was her." Rorek answered, laughing.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Dear Brother." Malchior groused.

"Where is that written down?"

"I could carve it into your fish."

"Please don't." Raven requested.

"Are you eating that raw?" Damien asked.

"Why not? The Japanese do it all the time."

"Well…yes but…"

After lunch the three sorcerers returned to the advanced arenas, though they were getting a bit more crowded by this time. They still managed to find one with a force field and Raven's training was continued.

She didn't need to learn how to control it, and she certainly didn't need to learn focus. What she needed was familiarity and the confidence it brought. It was a bit like learning to ice-skate when all you've ever done before is rollerblade. You have the balance you need, you know how it works, and you're able to do it well enough that you can avoid falling if you concentrate and don't become overconfident. But, in order to do it _without_ having to be constantly aware of your balance, movements, and so-on, you need practice. The right kind of practice at that.

Malchior and Rorek's exercises were very different from anything she'd ever done with the Azarathian magic-users and this was why: Their exercises were specifically designed for someone with a lot of power to learn that power and become comfortable with it. But in this day and age magic-users were never born with so much power that they needed these exercises. Instead all the exercises _they_ used were meant to strengthen their magic so they could actually _do_ something with it.

Little by little she was allowing herself to use more and more of her power. Dinner came and went. Then it was time to hit the showers and get ready for bed. She took some time to meditate so she could lock her power back up and then she crawled into bed, her mind buzzing with the things she'd need to do the next day.

First she had to go see her mother again. This time she wanted to go alone, though, so Malchior and Rorek were going to have to find something else to do with themselves. Then she needed to spend the promised hours with Grandmaster Astrid, then she needed to check on their beloved leader because she'd suddenly realized everyone was looking at _her_ for what they should be doing in the absence of Nightwing, and then she'd check up on Red X to see if he'd figured out his imprisonment yet (Cyborg reported that he had given up and was now trying to convince the technicians to let him out).

Her mind was spinning with it all so much that, finally, she took out her communicator, tapped in everything she intended to do tomorrow on a checklist app, and was able to settle down in the certain knowledge that technology would remember for her all the things she was afraid to forget.

She guiltily wished she could slip back into Malchior and Rorek's room to curl up with the twins, but she knew that wasn't something she needed to make a habit of. Besides, they were both right there waiting for her when she finally got to sleep.

(O)

"Those friends of yours…the odd twins," Arella began, not taking her eyes off the canvas she was working on with a piece of charcoal. "They are very handsome."

"Yeah…they are." Raven said, knowing and dreading where this conversation was going.

"Rumor has it that they're like the dragon in that one cartoon Marlen was so fond of a while back. Two in one."

"Yeah, it's a bit complicated…and difficult. Especially for them." Raven said.

"For you too, I imagine." Arella gave her daughter a sly grin. "You know, when I was a teenager I was a bit boy crazy. I once had dates with three different guys all in one week."

Raven closed her eyes and forced her mind into a relaxed state. "You know, I think I could have been quite happy not knowing that." she said.

"What I'm trying to say is that, if you'd like some advice, I can give it. Oh don't look at me like that. I saw the way they were looking at you and hovering around you like shadows. Though, I admit, their behavior made a lot more sense when Marlen told me about them. And then, of course, there was the way they reacted to the knowledge that you had a fiancé. Incidentally I heard what you told Damien to tell his mother. At first I didn't believe it, and then it was all I could do to keep a straight face as the woman accosted me."

Raven sat up in alarm. "She came after _you_?-!" she demanded.

"Calm down, Raven. I've been dealing with Madam Crux for a while now over the issue of your departure. I'm quite used to it. No, sit back down. I can handle Madam Crux. You focus on saving the world. Alright? Let me at least take care of _some_ of your problems for you."

Raven sat back down, but she wasn't happy. Madam Crux had no right to badger Arella about Raven's actions! Raven was an adult and therefore responsible for her own behavior. If the woman wanted to pick a fight it should be with her, not Arella!

"Now, back on topic: Is there anything you want to ask?"

Yes, actually, there were about a million things Raven wanted and needed to know. She just felt so embarrassed about asking her mother. On the other hand, if she couldn't ask her mother then who could she ask?

"The…the whole dating thing…what exactly am I supposed to do?" she asked, _knowing_ that she was blushing.

Arella paused and stated at her daughter. "Oh dear," she sighed. "I really have failed you as a mother, haven't I?"

(O)

Raven's head was swimming. Grandmaster Eudeal Astrid, who preferred to go by 'Astrid' only, wasn't using long words that Raven didn't know. Raven knew all the words. But the woman kept using them in odd ways, kept going back and contradicting herself, and Raven was pretty sure that the only purpose the chalkboard served was to make her even more confused.

You could not go back in time. Whatever happens stays happened. History will fulfill itself.

You _could_ go back in time. Things can be changed. _However_, history always has a contingency plan and does not stay changed. At least, not completely.

Time is only half a dimension because you can only go forwards. It is the one dimension that all accessible universes shared. It is not possible to step outside of time the same way you stepped out of other dimensions. Only, it had been done. By the Titans and Trigon. How? And what had they actually been doing? Astrid was going to find out but for now she'd move on.

Astrid did not slow down time. Neither did she speed it up. What she did was stretch each moment out so that more could be done with the time she had. She did to time what magic-users could do to space. She put more time into a moment so that the inside of this moment was bigger than the outside. And, she said, people manipulated time like this all the time without even realizing it. They'd say things like, "Where has the time gone?" and "This day is taking so long." and "Is it 6:00 already?" and so on. People could make time, borrow time, pass time, spend time, give time, and so on.

Raven protested that all that was just perception. Time went the same speed for everyone. Astrid was doubly insistent that, yes, it _was_ perception. But at the same (haha) time it was actually happening. Now, take that and just do it _more_ and you could make a single second do the work of hours. And she did this by treating it as a number. A second was the number 1. Divide it by, say, 10, and you had 10 bits of a second. Make each bit count and you had more than just one second. Astrid called this method 'slicing'.

The scariest part was that Raven was starting to suspect she could actually see what Astrid was getting at. And if Astrid was suddenly making sense to her, what did that say about her own sanity?

And then she stepped outside the dojo, checked the time on one of the Citadel clocks, and realized, with a start, that if any time had passed at all it'd been no more than a minute or two. She'd been in there for hours!

But, suddenly, it didn't _feel_ like hours. It felt like just a few minutes that had simply been packed in with a whole lot of activity. For a few seconds Raven was almost sure she understood everything Astrid had been saying. And then she shook it off. She wasn't entirely sure she _wanted_ to understand this. It felt like something that would slip in an extra layer of worry for her and she didn't need that. Alright, so being able to slice time like that would have no end of uses, but at what cost? Rorek and Malchior kept telling her that everything had a price. She believed them. The prize for being good at something was that you would have to do it even more.

She managed to track down Nightwing, but since he was in a deep trance she had to ask Grandmaster Zephyr about his progress. "He'll get there when he gets there." she stated. "But it may be another day or two. I can't even get him to move a feather much less himself." she groused.

"On Earth, children tend to grow up with the idea that psychic power and magic aren't real. It's only been recent that all that has started to fade away. I imagine the trouble is born from the conditioning of a childhood where you got smacked if you talked like moving things with your mind was actually possible." Raven explained.

"Mmm," the Grandmaster considered her current focus with an expression that told Raven she was going to have her work cut out for her making this up to Nightwing.

_Me and my big mouth._ she thought, escaping as swiftly as she could without seeming rude.

The tech labs had undergone some serious reconstruction the last time she visited. Earth's technology advanced at lightening speeds and, thanks to the dedication of Azarath's field agents, so did theirs. But Cyborg's personal technology was military level and wasn't easily accessible to people who paid with cash and avoided giving out their full names if they could. She found him building a huge structure of some sort and shouting out orders to all the lab-hands that he'd been provided with. A sandy-haired girl wearing a pair of big goggles that made her green eyes huge and prominent came up to Raven with a bright but slightly nervous smile.

"Want me to get him out for you?" she asked. She seemed jittery, but oddly so. Like she had too much energy while at the same time her rather large gloved hands were steady as a rock. The effect made it seem a bit like she was a pair of hands that hovered around towing a slightly vibrating humanoid along with them.

"No, I'll come back later. I can see you're busy." Raven answered.

The girl nodded and rushed back to their project, whatever it was.

She found a familiar face and asked after Red X - who had apparently become a lab-wide joke that everyone was in on. She was taken to the prison control chamber where a single window was open showing Red X lounging back on the prison bed, tossing around some kind of red ball he likely made from something in his suit. Prison wasn't supposed to be fun, after all. Boredom was part of the torture and so it was unlikely such a toy would have been provided for him. The words under the window read, "one-way", and there was a button next to it. This likely meant that they could see and hear him but if they wanted him to see and hear them then they'd have to press the button.

"Would it ruin everyone's fun if I told him to just give back whatever it was he stole?" Raven asked.

"Yes." the technician answered immediately. "Don't worry, we're keeping him fed and we don't watch him while he's bathing."

Raven shrugged. "It's probably just as well. This way he can't do any more mischief. Has he tried to remove bits of the walls yet?"

"No, we're still waiting on that."

Impatiently, she imagined. It was always a laugh to watch someone not used to Azarath's dimensional fun suddenly realize they were in a universe so small they could see the back of their own head. Though X was unlikely to realize that was the reason he was suddenly staring at his backside through a hole he'd be making on both sides of the cell.

Since she'd spent lunch with her mother and only a few minutes with Astrid that meant she had some time to kill (a phrase that suddenly made her wonder if time could bleed). So she returned to the Cathedral for some heavier meditation and, while she was at it, decided to work on a new dreamscape.

She kept it simple, like Malchior had advised. A large grassy field with a pile of large rocks that had a stone door. Inside she made a small cave with a bed, some furniture, and a fireplace just for the heck of it. It was all stone but with cushions and designs. The bed she decided to get a bit creative with. Instead of a traditional four-poster she created a crevice in the back of the chamber where she hollowed out a shallow pool that she filled with some fitted mattresses. A dream body didn't need back support, so she could make it as soft as she liked. And as big. She couldn't stop daydreaming about having Malchior and Rorek on either side of her again. It'd be alright in a dream, wouldn't it? They didn't have physical bodies so nothing could really happen, right?

She spent some time doing a bit of decorating.

When she arrived in the mess hall for dinner she found Beast Boy, Starfire, Malchior, Rorek, and Damien already there. The twins were wearing practice gis today. This meant that they were going sans-scarves, which also meant that they were getting a lot of female attention just like last time. Fortunately Azarathian girls were content to look but tended to leave the whole approaching thing up to the parents. Malchior and Rorek's lack of any parents or guardians might just make traditional Azarathian courtship a bit difficult, though.

Raven automatically took the space the two had left between them and sat down.

"Glad you made it, Love. Can you tell my self-conscious half that people are staring because they think our markings are interesting and _not_ because they're wondering why we have ancient bindings carved into our flesh?" Malchior asked.

Raven turned to Rorek. "Rorek, you are extremely good-looking. Even with the scarf on. People, specifically female people, would be staring even if you didn't have those markings." she informed him. "They stare even when you have the scarf on. You're just more sensitive to it at the moment."

Malchior snickered. "Is he blushing?" he asked.

"Yep." Beast Boy answered. Starfire giggled. "Anyway, have you seen Cyborg lately?"

"He's probably still in the tech labs. They sometimes have someone fetch a bunch of food so they can eat while they work." Raven answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Check this out!" Beast Boy said. He turned his hair a brilliant shade of purple. Raven stared.

"You can change colors now too?" she asked. And then she remembered that time back on the ship before Rorek showed up. He'd changed his eyebrows orange as a joke on Malchior. She'd thought it'd been a fluke but apparently not. Wow.

"Cyborg better watch out! There's a new king of the rainbow now!" Beast Boy declared, giving himself tie-dye hair and pale blue skin.

Raven shrugged. Oh well, looked like she would be forking over her skittles for a while again. Not that she minded. She didn't care all that much for them anyway.

Cyborg didn't show up, as she suspected, but that was alright. Starfire asked after Nightwing and Raven told her what she could but it wasn't a lot. Once dinner was done the twins changed back into their armor so they and Raven could head for the Arcane Sanctuary and get in a few more hours of magical exercises before it was time to shower and get ready for bed.

(O)

There were two circles this time. Malchior had carved one and then Rorek had done the same inside Malchior's. Raven had to admire how exact they were. Of course, she could make a perfect circle. It was possible, you just needed a lot of practice. Magic also helped. But the fact that a pair of dragons had used their tails to gouging out the earth, making a pair of rings that were exactly the same distance apart all the way around, was very impressive.

Then the two of them returned to human shape and waited for her within the circle. Fortunately she was able to slip in without too much trouble. Looked like this night _wasn't_ going to be a sleepless one. That was a mercy.

The sky's color was off. Instead of blue it was some sort of odd dusty gray with a hint of blue. The grass was strange as well. Somehow it had a bit of purple in it, though Raven had no idea how that'd happened. It was also cold again. Why was it always cold unless she remembered heat? You'd think heat would be automatic.

"Why are the colors so different looking from the outside?" Raven asked as she consciously warmed up the place. She adjusted the colors from inside. Even the rocks were off, but, since they seemed to be a sort of grayish-violet that she decided she liked, she left them as they were.

"Pigments." Malchior answered. "There aren't any." Then he chuckled and shrugged. "I don't know. Colors tend to be tricky in dreams. I've heard tell that some people dream in black and white."

"Right. So why the double circle?" Raven asked.

"It is one circle." Rorek told her. "It is simply a very wide circle described by two lines. They are much more difficult to penetrate, or so we have been told. Still, one of us will remain watchful while you sleep. Even a titan will have some difficulty with this but we do not wish to take chances."

Which meant she wouldn't get to snuggle with the both of them at once. But that was probably for the better.

"So, what's behind the door?" Malchior asked.

Raven showed them. Her little cavern seemed to meet with approval. The abstract designs she'd textured the stone with were given some considerable attention, though she wished they wouldn't. She didn't know why, but for some reason she felt very exposed when people looked at her doodles. Perhaps it was because much of them were part of what she saw in the chaotic deluge of her power when she looked at it during meditation. Perhaps it might be worse if she decided to include the colors as well.

"Cozy." Malchior said. He settled down on her couch with the definite air of someone who intended to stay there a while. Raven looked over at Rorek, but he just shrugged and strolled back outside. He closed the door behind him.

Well, that was decided then. Rorek would be taking the first watch.

For a moment she seriously considered joining Malchior on the couch, and then she lost her nerve. She aimed for the bed instead and settled in with her back to the rest of the room. She waited a bit, wondering if, maybe, Malchior would slip in next to her. But he stayed on the couch and she tried not to feel too disappointed. She allowed herself to drift off into a real dream.

(O)

Timmy was in trouble. But the fact that Grandmaster Astrid was _also_ in trouble rather mitigated the situation. You couldn't exactly give a Grandmaster a time-out, after all. Besides, Timmy had only been doing what he was told. And he'd been told to do it by a Grandmaster at that. So, really, it was just Grandmaster Astrid who was in trouble. And once that had been satisfactorily settled, Raven proceeded to give the Grandmaster a piece of her mind.

"If you ever use one of my kids to sooth your obsession again I will curse this entire Citadel so that every clock, no matter how often you adjust the master clock, will be between 5 to 10 seconds late or early and _none of them_ will be completely synchronized. Do we have an understanding?" she growled.

"Yes!" Astrid squeaked. She looked stricken and pale, as though Raven had threatened her unborn children.

"Good. Then we'll say no more about this."

So now the master clock had to be repaired – and actually it was going to be rebuilt entirely because otherwise Astrid would throw a fit. No one really cared all that much. Most people worked to the task at hand, not the clock. Mealtimes were generally held as a matter of consensus rather than any specific time since the kitchen was always open. It was even available late at night in case the technicians got too excited to sleep and needed a snack.

Raven decided to spend that morning with the kids to see how well they were settling in. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, actually. The gyms and dojos provided them with much larger playgrounds than they'd had. And, since the whole point was to hone their powers, Melvin's friends got to come out in the open and romp across the alchemically crafted flowers – a sight that would cause grown men to hide under their beds and wish for their mothers.

"You could have warned us about that." Patriarch Zanith grumbled at her.

"Sorry, I've had a lot on my mind lately."

They didn't really need Raven, though they liked having her there. They were used to going from one place to another so as long as they could stay together they had no real issues adjusting. Raven only hoped the Citadel could adjust to them as easily.

So she left them and went to check on Cyborg. This time she found him standing back and admiring whatever it was they were working on. She could tell it wasn't finished, but it looked like the hardest bits had been taken care of. The sandy-haired girl with the steady hands was with him and beaming just as proudly at the structure. As Raven approached the two of them turned and shook hands.

"A pleasure to work with you Mr. Cyborg!" the girl told him. "I think we'll be good from here on out."

"Just be sure to keep an eye on the heat. You know what it does to mercury. Wherever you store this baby it's got to stay as cool as possible. Frigid if you want the best results."

"Understood."

Cyborg turned to leave and spotted her. "Oh hey Rae, what's up?"

"Just checking up. So you're finished here?" she asked, falling into step next to him.

"Here yes, but they're asking me to look at just about every project they're having problems with." he answered. "I figured I'd lend a hand until our beloved leader decides it's time to head back."

"Which may be a while if Grandmaster Zephyr is allowed to keep him until he learns to fly. She thinks it'll take more than another day or two."

"Fine by me! I'm having the time of my life! Why didn't you ever tell me this place had such neat stuff? That project of Clair's back there is going to become a dark matter battery once they've finished all the big monotonous stuff. The next lab I'm headed to wants to see if we can stabilize a communications signal through dimensions. If we succeed I can upgrade the communicators." he told her.

"Has Kid Flash contacted you about any problems?" Raven asked.

"No problems, but we seem to be getting some e-mails that aren't coming through to our communicators." he said.

"Hmmm…why not try creating a new dimension specifically for the communicator signals and making sure each communicator is tied into it? That way no matter what universe any of us is in the signal will still get through." Raven suggested.

"I think that's something we're going to need a bit of magic to accomplish. Volunteering?"

"The twins want to continue my training today, but Azarathian technicians always have some brush with magic. I'm sure they'll be able to handle that part." she told him.

(O)

The Azarathian gemstones had a rather curious tone to them. It was a bit odd and a bit familiar. Familiar in a good way, though. They certainly glittered pleasingly enough.

"Thank you, my friend. These are quite lovely." Rorek said to Damien, who was admiring the gold coin that he'd gotten out of the bargain.

"Oh no, thank _you_. As I said before, gold is very hard to get around here and most of it is claimed by the technicians. Though I understand that it is quite valuable on Earth as well."

"It is, but I am thinking these rather exquisite gemstones would be worth far more of those coins on Earth. I rather feel I am taking advantage of your generosity."

"Don't. If you had taken this to the technicians they'd have probably given you more. That was as much as I was able to gather without telling my mother what I wanted the money for. I am thinking she will forgive me my requested advance once she sees this, though." Damien said. He placed the coin in a small pouch he had brought along for that purpose and then put it into a sub-space pocket he had in the goshenite stone dangling from his belt. Rorek placed the much larger pouch of regularly cut gemstones into his own sub-space pocket. "I wonder…could I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"You and Raven…I mean, the both of you, the two-in-one of you…you seem…close."

"Yes. We are."

Rorek knew where this was going, of course. But a rather less charitable part of him didn't really feel like giving Damien any help. If he were honest with himself then he had to admit he did not truly wish to befriend this boy. He was strong, handsome, a protégé, and he was from a very prominent family. He also happened to be only one person. All in all that added up to a threat; a possible rival. The worst part was that he had, at one point in time, been promised to the lady in question and she to him. But Rorek was pretending he didn't know that, wasn't he? And it would behoove him not to let on to Malchior the fact that what he _wanted_ to do was take the young man aside and explain things to him in a manner that would hurt for days regardless of anything these Azarathian healers could do. But he wasn't supposed to think like that. He was supposed to be the nice one. It was just that, sometimes, he _wished_ he could be the nasty one instead. He had the uncomfortable suspicion that he'd be better at it than Malchior, and that was a frightening thought.

Damien did not continue, though. Instead he mumbled something along the lines of 'never mind' and the two of them parted ways. Perhaps there was a chilly edge in Rorek's voice that he had not intended to put there. Or perhaps the edge was in his eyes. For whatever reason the subject was dropped. That was just as well.

Rorek arrived in the Arcane Sanctuary a bit earlier before Malchior. The two of them waited patiently for Raven, leaning against the wall next to the entrance.

"_I still say we should __**talk**__ to that boy."_ Malchior growled in his head.

"_Only if he shows any definite signs of taking an active interest in Raven."_

"_Very well."_

Raven arrived soon enough and they got down to business.

(8)

A/N: I got Time Slicing from Terry Pratchett's Discworld series as well. :D "Thief of Time" to be exact.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
You knew your mother had gone totally bonkers when she started sounding like that little gray bug-eyed dude from Lord of the Rings.

Okay, so, like, I'm having a really hard time catching up with my buffer/draft chapters for two reasons. First, I've been getting caught up with different stuff that I can't seem to pry myself away from and that week that I took off I pretty much goofed around with video games and didn't get NEARLY as much written as I should have. Secondly, I'm coming to the end or finale of 'Circles', which is proving to be REALLY HARD to write because I want to get it right and I can't seem to figure out how to get through it all. I may have to cut out a few things or leave things up to exposition rather than actually writing them out. So 'Squares' is going to be put on hold indefinitely and I might, MIGHT, have to wind down to one update a week. I really don't want to, but if I do then it will only be temporary. I will update Friday and let you know in the A/N if I have to skip next Sunday's update. I apologize in advance if I do!

Also, since, as I have indicated, 'Circles' is drawing to a close, I might as well go ahead and reveal that there shall be a sequel! Oh I could just continue 'Circles' as it is, but if I did that then it'd definitely become ridiculously long. I'm pretty certain it's already ridiculously long since I think this is going to span another 10 chapters or so.


	41. Iron Rings

A/N: Hey, check it out! I have just discovered the poll option on FF! Let's see how this works…

(8)

_Her name was Hrist. She was not beautiful. It would be more accurate to say she was striking. She lived alone in a small cottage some distance from the rest of the townsfolk yet she lacked for nothing for she had knowledge of healing and medicines. She was not easy to speak to. In her house any space of wall that was not occupied by shelves or hooks were taken by stone masks and their stare pinned me to my seat. She heard the words I did not speak and her eyes saw through me right down to the bone. She was a terrifying woman with no desire for a husband and she made this quite clear to me. But she agreed to return south with Madam Crow and I, though she made no promise that she would be able to calm the shadows of Elti._

_Yet as we journeyed together I could not keep my distance despite her warnings and the ribbon I still kept with me. She was dark, powerful, and held the ear of shadows. I longed to know more of her, but it was only when finally I gave up any notions of romance that she deigned to give me insight into her life._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 41 – Iron Rings**

Nightwing still couldn't fly, but he _could_ levitate a few inches off the ground if he was given some peace and quiet for a while. At this stage all he needed was a lot of practice so Grandmaster Zephyr released him to his team. Feeling that they had stayed long enough but promising to keep in touch, the Titans prepared to take their leave. With the new communications systems up and running it would be easy to send and receive e-mails from the Citadel.

Raven went to say goodbye to her mother only to find that her newest painting had already been completed. It shouldn't be possible to complete an entire painting in only a few days, but Azarathian paints dried swiftly and Arella didn't really have anything else to do these days.

It was a simple painting, though. The background was a splash of different shades of blue, Raven's face was at an angle with her eyes looking off into the distance, her long hair billowing in imaginary wind with a hand to her breast. Her new outfit had been incorporated, and it seemed as though special attention had been paid to the blue iron ring on her middle finger. It glittered even more brilliantly than the sapphire.

"I thought, maybe, your young men might like it." Arella suggested, grinning.

"Um…I wouldn't suggest it unless you have another. Otherwise they'll fight over it."

"Oh…aren't they the same person?"

"It's complicated."

"Well, alright. I'll just paint a second one. Perhaps I'll use the extra time to give this one a bit more detail. Would you like to take home any of the others I've done?" Arella asked hopefully.

"Yes…I think I would." Raven decided. She never took any of the paintings of herself. It seemed a bit vain, though Arella didn't do very many self-portraits for the same reason. Raven looked around Arella's workroom and something caught her eye.

It wasn't one of Arella's prettier pictures. In fact it wasn't very pretty at all, and that was why it stood out. It was a large canvas, about 3x5 feet. The landscape was red and rocky with the sort of sky whose clouds had a bruise-like quality, it's ominous black shaded with purple and red. A woman was standing in the middle. She wore some kind of ragged knee-length dress that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be made of black feathers. She had gray skin, long black hair that billowed in the wind, and eyes that stared right through the looker with an expression that told of years beyond her youthful appearance. In one hand she was holding what appeared to be a double-edged war scythe.

Contrary to popular appearances in animes, movies, games, and so on, a traditional farming scythe does _not_ make for a good weapon. Oh it _looks_ intimidating enough, but you really can't get around the simple fact that this characterization of said farming implement has the sharp part facing the wielder. Good for harvesting crops. But the difference between harvesting a crop and battling an opponent is that the plants don't usually fight back. However, there is such a thing as a war scythe and you made that by taking the curving blade and pointing it directly up so it became something similar to a fauchard. The weapon had a history of splitting open metal helmets and was very popular due to its long range and powerful force – that and the fact that most farmers had scythes to begin with, all they needed to do was make a few adjustments.

The one in Arella's picture looked very plain. It seemed to have been made specifically to be a war scythe, but the slender pole was unpolished wood, the blade was so tarnished it was black, and the only ornamentation it appeared to possess was the knotted rope at the neck where the two parts met. And yet, as she looked at it, Raven couldn't help but feel as though the weapon was all the more potent for its simplicity. It seemed to suggest that here was a weapon meant to be _used_, not admired.

As for the landscape…the landscape didn't seem particularly off or strange. Plenty of the fantasies had shown similar places to represent hell or somewhere that was as close to hell as you could get while still being alive. Battlefields tended to be characterized this way – though they usually had skulls. This one had…sticks. Pointed sticks poking up out of the ground like the earth itself was growing thorns. There weren't any flags or bodies on any of them, though there were a lot of black carrion birds in the dead trees off in the distance to the right. But there was something about this image that made her a bit uneasy. Maybe it was the fact that, aside from the outfit and the hair that was both a different color and much longer, she looked exactly like Raven.

"I'm not sure why I painted that one." Arella admitted. "It just sort of came to me, I think."

"I like the war scythe." Raven told her. She'd never considered using weapons but for some reason the one that the black-haired her was holding in the painting was calling to her. Was this a premonition of some sort? Raven hated premonitions, especially the ones that were all symbolic – which was how most of them tended to be. She got the feeling that this happened on purpose because people weren't supposed to know the future but tended to catch bits of it anyway from some sort of resonance. None of it ever made sense until it was actually happening and what was the use of that?

Oh well. Maybe this was one of those self-fulfilling deals. She saw the scythe, now she wanted the scythe, so somewhere in the future she would get the scythe and she was probably going to find herself in a position where she needed it too. Great.

She decided to put it out of her mind for now. What was the use in puzzling over something she knew she wouldn't be able to figure out? She turned away from it and decided to look for one of Arella's more typical paintings.

(O)

Red X was released back to the Titans, though in order to get him out of that prison Raven had to tell him what was going on. The technicians were a bit upset about that, but, since he had finally tried to leave by taking off bits of the wall, they weren't too disappointed. Apparently his reaction to poking his hand through and seeing his own backside had been extremely funny.

When they arrived back in the T-Tower Jinx was there. At first it looked like they had just shown up at a very awkward moment because Kid Flash had his arms around her, but when the pink-haired sorceress looked 'round her expression filled with relief. "Raven!" she exclaimed, throwing her boyfriend off as though he'd only been her second choice. She had her arms up and was waving them slightly as she ran forwards so for a moment Raven thought she was about to get hugged. Then she saw the look on Jinx's face and the thing she was holding in her hands. "Look at this!" Jinx exclaimed, thrusting the horseshoe into Raven's face.

Calmly Raven took it. It was covered in rust. In fact, it appeared to be mostly rust with maybe just a bit of actual metal somewhere on the inside. It was a wonder it hadn't disintegrated into a pile of red-brown flakes and bits of iron wire.

And then she noticed something else. A spell. One that, in theory, should prevent any oxygen from touching the metal. It was a pretty good one too. And that meant that this horseshoe had no business having any rust on it whatsoever.

"That happened to _every single one of them_!" Jinx cried out. "Even the spares I keep in an air-tight box! And it happened over night! That shouldn't be possible! I mean I even oil them every week!" She was starting to sound hysterical.

"Jinx, calm down. We can—"

"That's only ever happened twice!" She was practically jumping up and down now. "And each time it—each time she…you said you were more powerful than Morgaine Le Fay, right? You said this city was your territory, right? So if any other powerful magic-users come in you can kick them out, right?" she asked hopefully.

Raven was stunned. Jinx was actually starting to cry. Jinx _never_ cried. Not in public anyway. She was like Raven; when she got upset she got angry. There was no crying unless she was alone in a sound-proof room. And even then.

Kid Flash pulled the sorceress back into his arms and stroked her back. "She's been like this since this morning. She won't tell me what's wrong." he told the others.

Raven looked down at the horseshoe and remembered the conversation she had with Jinx about them. A cold dread started to creep over her.

'She', 'powerful magic-users', and, some time ago, 'worst parts of the Academy'…

"Jinx, what are you talking about?" Nightwing asked. "Calm down and tell us what's going on."

Raven stared at the horseshoe. Then she looked over at Rorek who was eyeing it with some trepidation. She handed it to him. "Can Blood Magic do that?" she asked softly.

While the others focused on Jinx, Rorek and Malchior both studied the horseshoe in dead silence. But their trepidation was so palpable that she felt it. Finally, Rorek nodded.

"There have been instances…" he began softly so that just the three of them could hear. "Instances where the magic was so strong that it could overcome iron."

"It happened three times." Malchior told her. "Each time Rorek and I were the ones to stop them, and only because we had those rings." he said, nodding to Raven's hands. "We think it is because the iron is completely pure with nothing added to strengthen the metal, but it could just as easily be the runes inscribed within the bands. We've tried to duplicate them hundreds of times. The results were good, but never _as_ good." he said, producing a small handful of silvery-iron rings. None of them looked blue, though.

"Then either you need to teach me how to destroy Blood Magic that's gotten that powerful, or you need to take these rings back." Raven stated.

Rorek and Malchior looked at one another. Some conversation had to be passing between them but, thankfully, there were no spill words. And if there were then she couldn't read them. A few seconds later and a decision seemed to be made.

"Give Rorek one of them – the one on your left finger. You keep the other." Malchior instructed.

She did so, and couldn't help but marvel at how the ring slipped easily over Rorek's own middle finger even though it was much bigger than hers. Whatever magic was in these rings had been woven so finely and delicately that she couldn't sense anything.

"I think…I think it's Mother Mayhem that we're dealing with this time." she told them softly.

"Yes, we think so too." Rorek sighed. "Time to tell the others, yes?"

Raven nodded and insinuated herself in the group. She caught Jinx's eye. "It's Mother Mayhem, isn't it? Your horseshoes rust through whenever she's around. And the only reason they'd have all rusted through last night is because she was there for some reason. Right?"

Jinx's eyes went wide. "You know about the Church of Blood?" she whispered.

"The what?" Kid Flash asked.

"Oh _hell no_." Cyborg groaned. "They're in Jump City now?-!"

"Are you sure about this, Raven?" Nightwing asked. "I thought Blood Magic was weak against iron. Horseshoes are made of iron, right?"

Rorek came forward, waving the horseshoe that Jinx had brought with her. "In some rare cases the magic can become so potent that it overcomes the iron and the iron, rather than remain in the vicinity of such taint, simply dies. That is to say, it rusts. Only iron in its very purest form can withstand such a case as this, though not always for very long. The only iron that can withstand and conquer this level of blood magic are in two rings that Malchior and I found long ago. I am wearing one because if anyone is to face this power head-on it will be me. Raven has the other because she is the one the Church of Blood will be after. However, we have made replicas that should work well enough. You will each take two and wear them on your middle fingers. Regular Blood Magic should have very little effect on you, but try to stay as far from this Mother Mayhem as possible." he instructed.

"Can I get a necklace of those things?" Red X asked.

"No, because _you_ are going back to Azarath." Raven answered.

"Awesome!" X said, sticking his thumbs up.

"Um, can I get a briefing here? What the heck is going on?" asked Kid Flash. "What's Blood Magic? Sounds creepy."

"It's pretty much the worst magic ever." Jinx told him, shuddering. "I didn't know iron stops it, though." she added.

"Neither does the Church of Blood. That knowledge has been lost for quite some time, it seems." Rorek answered.

"Then how do you know it?" Jinx asked him. Raven was sure they'd told her the twins had been sealed in books for a thousand years. Obviously she didn't remember that bit any more than she remembered Rorek's name.

"You know that book you were accusing Raven of having and wanting it for yourself?" Rorek asked. "The Mortix?"

Jinx's eyes narrowed. "_You_ have it?-!" she demanded.

"Oh no, Raven lied. She's the owner. I, however, am the author." he said. "I wrote it."

Jinx's jaw dropped and her eyes popped open. She wasn't the only one shocked, though.

"Dude, seriously?-!" Red X gasped.

"Yes, seriously. Though I would greatly appreciate it if you would keep this information to yourselves." he explained.

"But if you _wrote_ the book then how come Raven owns it?" Jinx demanded.

"Vae Victus." Rorek answered. "'Woe to the conquered', or 'To the victor go the spoils'. Raven and I engaged in magical combat where she defeated me. I may, perhaps, have greater knowledge and understanding than she – certainly my knowledge is older –, but I was overpowered nonetheless. By the laws of my time, this battle decided the rightful owner of my grimoire and diary."

"She took your diary too?" Jinx asked, her lips quirking into a slight smirk of amusement. Well, at least she looked a bit more cheerful.

"Hey, can we get back to the subject at hand?" Red X demanded. Malchior was starting to pass around the rings.

"Raven, you head back to Azarath with Red X and tell them what we've found out. I'm going to e-mail Batman. Rorek, Malchior, I'd like the two of you to fortify the tower against Blood Magic as best you can. Have Cyborg show you the security systems we have in place if you think that will help. Starfire, Beast Boy, Flash, and Jinx I want the four of you to start going through the news – especially you, Jinx. Papers, television, internet – look for anything you think might clue us in on where Mother Mayhem might be staying. Iron mysteriously rusting over or something. Whatever you can think of. Malchior, Rorek, do you think you can make more of these rings so we can have a few extra each?"

"10 rings would do no more than 2, my friend. In fact it may do less. 2 is a potent number to the deep magics." Rorek told him.

"Really? I thought three or seven were the magic numbers." Red X said.

"You have only two hands, do you not? You have only two legs, two arms, two feet, two eyes, two ears, two lungs, and so on. There are two sides of a coin, two directions in a dimension, two states of a day, two parts to all things. Two is the number of eternal companionship. Two become one, and then become greater than the sum of their parts. Naykronah – the magic of two together. Man and woman, to be specific. We have enough rings for each of you to wear ten but it would do more harm than good. Trust me." Rorek responded.

"Right, magic, got it." Red X said, waving his hands as though to ward off any more of the lecture.

"Dude…I think I just understood that…" Cyborg said, staring at Rorek.

"I think I did too. And I'm kinda thankful I'm not a magic-user. Alright, we all have our assignments? Good, let's go." Nightwing ordered.

"Where do you want us to start?" Kid Flash asked.

"Turn on the news channel in the background just in case something comes up and then start going backward through newspapers. You can print them out if you want." Nightwing answered.

"Wait, Raven." Malchior said before she turned to go. He took her left hand and put one of the iron replica rings on her middle finger. "It probably won't do any more good than just the one original, but if it starts to corrode on your finger then that'll be something of a warning at the very least." he told her.

"You know, I looked up the nibelungen a while back." Raven said. "The actual story goes that they crafted a ring out of stolen gold which granted its wearer mastery over the world. It was the legend that inspired Lord of the Rings. Was the ring actually iron?"

Malchior chuckled and shook his head. "Iron is not a metal that conquers the world. Gold, however, is. If any metal would give you mastery over the world, it would be gold."

"Iron makes weapons, though." Red X pointed out.

Malchior rolled his eyes. "Does iron make _your_ weapons? No. But gold could buy your weapons, couldn't it? Think about it." He held his fist out to Red X who, automatically, held his hand out. Malchior dropped two iron rings into his hand. "Just in case."

"Hey, thanks man!" X said, seeming distinctly more cheerful.

"These come with a condition, however," Malchior began.

"There's always a catch."

"Indeed." Malchior grabbed X by the neck of his suit and pulled him up slightly so he was closer to Malchior's burning red eyes than anyone would want to be. At least, when they had _that_ expression, anyway. He then used his free hand to point at Raven. "She's _mine_. Understood?"

X swallowed. "Yup."

"No more of this 'Sunshine' business."

"Sure thing."

"Keep your limbs and your eyes to yourself else I will remove all organs in question."

"Got it."

"No flirting or teasing. Any and all civil conversation will remain in what you might refer to as the 'friend zone'. Do we have an understanding?"

"Absolutely."

"Good." Malchior dropped Red X, who only just managed to keep himself from falling flat on his backside. "Then we'll say no more about it."

Raven knew she was blushing, she knew her entire face was bright red and for the life of her she couldn't seem to stop it. Jinx's nudge wasn't helping, and neither were the grins and/or smirks on various Titan faces. She was incredibly glad to be headed right back to Azarath. With any luck she'd be able to avoid the bulk of the inevitable teasing.

The worst part was the fact that she was fighting a mercifully successful battle against the large stupid grin that was trying to take over her face.

"I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend." X grumbled at her as they walked back to the large emptied storage space they'd used for her teleportation circle.

"I think that changed while I wasn't looking." she mused. "Anyway, why do you care? You never had any serious interest. And if you did it was in Starfire." she said. It was always in Starfire…except in the case of a certain pair of dragon twins.

Red X muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch but she guessed it was unflattering.

Part of her wondered if she should be a bit irritated at Malchior for his flat declaration, but she just couldn't seem to muster the anger. Another part, a deep primal part, balked at the notion that she could be owned by a man. But somehow she felt instinctively that, when Malchior said 'mine', he wasn't calling her a possession. If he thought of her as a possession then he'd be treating her like a possession and he didn't, not by any stretch of imagination. Well, there had been that incident in the dreamscape, but since he hadn't been the only one who was, ahem, 'acting out', she could safely decide that the dreamscape incident didn't count.

Then again, when had all this been decided? Well, probably when she'd kissed him. And then there was that morning when she'd woken up and kissed Rorek. And before all that there was the kiss The Other had given Rorek, but that probably didn't count. The Other hadn't exactly been making any conscious decisions about the future. Well, okay, so neither had she. Still, they were just kisses, right? She hadn't actually committed to anything, had she? Nothing had actually been _decided_, had it?

_Oh but it has._ an honest part of her rang out. _It was decided the moment you realized you didn't have to choose. Everything after has been little more than ironing out the bumps._

But she couldn't think about that right now. Right now they had other worries.

(O)

Raven's sudden return caused quite a stir in the Citadel. She could _feel_ the heightened emotions that were running through the structure at the speed of rumor even though all she'd said to anyone was that she had to speak to Patriarch Zanith as soon as possible. Right now she and Red X were both waiting for him in his office and the miasma of emotions that were growing even more powerful by the minute were starting to get to her.

It seemed apparent that everyone in the Citadel knew The Church of Blood was back and that they were to prepare for a hunt the likes of which hadn't been seen in centuries. Her sudden reappearance after little more than half an hour could only signify that something had happened.

Finally Zanith entered his office, looking grave. "Well?" he asked with some trepidation.

"It would take a long time to explain how, but we have the testimony of a friend that suggests very strongly that Mother Mayhem herself has come to Jump City. We don't know why. It could be she wants revenge for the deaths of the individuals known as Sister Fear and Father Sorrow, and then again she could have somehow found out that we have Red X and she wants him back. We don't know how she'd know this, but just in case I was hoping he could stay here in protective custody." she answered.

"A good idea. Though this time we'll give you a more comfortable cell with commodities. You may be there a while." Zanith told X.

"Sounds good to me."

"But I want you to understand something." the Patriarch went on, his eyes growing hard and cold, "You are a threat. So long as you live the Church of Blood could very well continue whether you become Brother Blood or not. Allowing you to live is a risk that I do not like taking. It goes against everything Azar has worked to build in this veritable paradise of ours to kill an innocent, but I have done it before and I would do it again if I had to. Raven is all that stands between you and me, Sonny Jim. Understood?"

"What is it with people and threatening my life and/or limbs today? Alright! Yes! Understood! I'm a liability and will try to be as little of one as possible! But I _have_ helped out, alright? Isn't that worth something?"

"He's right, he has." Raven stated. "The Church of Blood managed to catch him some time ago but he was able to escape with…call it a weapon. It's extremely powerful and practically irreplaceable. It couldn't have been easy for him to get it but it's lucky he did."

"Oh? And this weapon would be…?"

"Something called an 'Elder Scroll'…I'm going to take your slack-jawed expression as confirmation that you've heard of them, then."

"Impossible, Raven. The Elder Scrolls are all gone – destroyed or used up. The last known individual to hold an Elder Scroll was Rorek of Nol who—"

"Yeah, so he'd know one when he saw one, wouldn't he?" Red X interrupted.

Zanith looked at him sharply. "What?"

"We're talking about Rorek, right? Guy who wrote that Mortix book that Raven's got? White hair, blue eyes, talks like this?" X continued, mimicking a terrible British accent. He caught Raven's angry look. "What?"

"He asked us to keep that information to ourselves." Raven growled.

"That. Was. _The_. Rorek?" Patriarch Zanith asked Raven in a slow voice, his eyes wide and his face slack with shock.

Raven sighed. But what was the point denying it now? "Yes. And his twin is _the_ Malchior. Kind of adds a whole new layer to the story, doesn't it?"

"I'm thinking it adds a whole new story to the story." Zanith responded weakly.

"What story?" Red X asked.

"Later." Raven said.

"But…_how_?" Zanith asked.

"I'm not sure what story you know, but in the version I know Rorek sealed Malchior away in a book – his diary, to be specific. What _isn't _in the story is that, sometime later, Rorek was being persecuted and an old sorceress managed to save his life by sealing him away in the other book. There were two books, you see. The diary and the grimoire, though only the grimoire, The Mortix, became well-known, I think." she explained. "To make a long story short, both of these books found their way into my possession and now both Malchior and Rorek are free."

"The story _I_ know does not depict Malchior in a very good light, I'm afraid." Zanith said grimly.

"A thousand-year imprisonment has taught him the error of his ways. Besides, Rorek isn't exactly the traditional knight in shining armor." she pointed out. "Stories change. Apparently the most recent version of their story has renamed them Beowulf and Grindel. If you want to know the whole story you can ask them and it'll be up to them whether they tell you or not. Back to the subject at hand,"

"Yes, the Elder Scroll…where, is it now?" Zanith asked.

"To be honest I had originally intended to hide it here. But that was when I believed this was still a fiery wasteland."

Zanith's eyebrows went up. "You mean you had it when you came here the first time? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I guess it didn't come up. The shock of finding out my home hadn't actually stayed destroyed sort of put it out of my mind." she responded. "Anyway, I found somewhere else to hide it." she assured him.

"You could still hide it here." Zanith suggested.

"Where? My mother's jewelry box? I think it's safer where it is, to be honest." she said.

"Mother? You have a mother?" Red X asked.

Raven turned and gave him a long, slow look. "No," she began sarcastically, "she ran away before I was born."

"Heyyyy…what is this? Pick On Red X Day?"

"I meant that _I_ could hide it for you." Zanith informed her.

"I'm thinking Yin and Yang wanted her to keep it." Red X pointed out before Raven could respond. "I could tell from the way they said, 'here, you take it, we don't trust anyone else not even ourselves'."

"It's safe where it is." Raven assured him. "Maybe when all this is over we can give it to the technicians and tell them to use as much power as possible for the next few years and hope it runs out eventually."

"I'm sure we can put its power to more productive uses. If the legends are true, then there is very little that cannot be done with an Elder Scroll."

Raven gave Zanith a sharp look. "At what cost?" she demanded. "These things always lead to trouble. Best to use it in mundane ways and get rid of it. Do you really want to have the responsibility of that kind of power on your shoulders?"

Zanith coughed and shook himself. It almost seemed as though he were coming out of a daze of some sort. "No…no I do not…" he said. "Red X mentioned you had The Mortix as well." She nodded. "I…suppose if I asked you to pass it over to me as your Archmage you would require a formal challenge?" he asked.

"Mmm, yes, I think I would." she answered. She wasn't _entirely_ sure she could defeat Marlen Zanith in an Arcane battle, but only because she'd never seen him fight. If she won then she'd do so by way of brute force, just like she'd done in the battle against Rorek.

"Of course." he sighed. He eyed her as though seriously considering that challenge. "Just how great was this power boost you mentioned?"

"I overpowered Rorek himself." she stated flatly.

"Good Lord, _did_ you?" Zanith asked, astonished.

"You're welcome to ask him." she stated.

"I think I will take you at your word…" He eyed her again, but this time with a strangely calculating expression, as though he was having something of a thought but wasn't sure about it. "In any case, we will need at least two more weeks before we can mobilize any sort of force." he told her. "However, I have a certain young Acolyte who might be willing and able to return with you to Earth now, if you can spare him some time to prepare."

Raven nodded. "We'll take all the help we can get." she said. "Do you have a pencil and some paper?"

"Yes, why?"

"I'm going to get you into contact with Batman. He's the one who first discovered that the Church of Blood was back. Besides, if anyone on Earth can help you organize a small army of superpowered humans against this kind of threat, it'll be him."

(O)

It took two hours for Damien to show up. He was dressed in a traditional black battle uniform of the Azarathian monks, which looked very much like something a traditional Japanese ninja would wear save for the black goshenite stones on the back of each hand and the curious lack of weaponry on his person due to the fact that any weapons he'd choose to have would be in the stones. It wasn't traditional field agent garb. Traditional field agent garb was jeans and a t-shirt that had some sort of rebellious logo on it so that no one looking at said agent was going to think, 'member of a secretive society of pacifist monks trained in the art of smacking your internal organs around so they get lost up your throat'. The goal was for people to think, 'some stupid punk who thinks he's so tough'. But since Damien was going to be a Teen Titan he needed a costume. The only thing he'd forgotten was a face-covering hood or mask.

"We might need to give you one of Nightwing's old masks." Raven mused thoughtfully.

"Is that necessary?" he asked.

"You're not going to be a field agent here, Damien, you're going to be a Teen Titan. A conspicuous costume, annoying quirk, love for pizza, and one or two mental breakdowns during the course of your career are all mandatory." she informed him.

Damien's lips twitched. "I'll keep that in mind."

(O)

It was a pretty nice cell. The bed was a lot more comfortable, it was larger, the walls looked like normal walls, it had a small kitchenette so he could do some cooking of his own if he wanted (yeah right), it even smelled nicer, and there was some form of entertainment. Unfortunately what these people defined as 'entertainment' consisted if a fully-stocked bookshelf. Ugh, _reading_. No thanks. He'd just lay back and toss his ball if that was the only alternative.

Unfortunately that meant that the whole thinking thing was happening. He was trying to stop it but sometimes a guy's own brain would work against him. Gawd, it really was Pick On Red X Day, wasn't it?

He _didn't_ like her. Not seriously. Not…well, no. He wasn't serious about girls. He wasn't serious about anything except staying alive and away from the thing that had spawned him and thought that meant it could control his life. So why was he feeling so crappy?

He didn't like her…okay, maybe a little. But not seriously. Nothing serious.

He managed to bully his brain into an absence of thought for a full two hours before it pulled up a pair of blood red eyes and the words, 'She's mine'.

His red ball rose into the air an fell back into his hand. Rise and fall. Rise and fall. Poor ball; just when it thought it was getting the hang of things gravity called it right back down. Rise and fall. Rise and fall.

'_She's mine.'_

_Sure, alright, all yours, Dude. Good luck._ he thought.

Rise and fall. Rise and fall.

Suddenly he threw the ball as hard as he could at the wall. It ricocheted back to the wall behind him and bounced several times across the smooth surfaces before finally it lost inertia and rolled into a corner.

Damn it! Why did he care?-! She was irritable, pessimistic, self-righteous, creepy, and god _damn_ but she was intimidating! Not that X was easily intimidated…not after what he'd been through.

Besides, she was right: Starfire was way more his kind of girl. The cheerful, cute, party kind that always smiled. Raven just glowered.

'_She's mine.'_

So why did he care? He _didn't_ care! He didn't, he didn't, he didn't, he didn't!

'_She's mine.'_

"_She could be yours."_

X froze. Oh no, oh _hell_ no!

"_She **should** be yours."_

"_Get out of my head, Woman!"_ he snapped back.

"_Oh errant child. Be a dear an tell me where you are."_

"_Out! The only voices a guy should have in his head are his own, and I'm sure none of mine sound anything like a chick."_

"_He gets it from his father's side, I'm sure."_

"_Oh Darling, don't tell me you honestly believe personality is a matter of blood."_

"_Woman, you're talking to yourself again. Could you at least not do that in my head?"_ he demanded.

"_So uncooperative. Do tell me where you are, Precious."_

X winced. He _hated_ it when she called him that. You knew your mother had gone totally bonkers when she started sounding like that little gray bug-eyed dude from Lord of the Rings.

She hadn't always been like this. Used to she'd just been nasty and, you know, properly villainess-like without actually taking an active role in villaining. He hadn't liked it, but then she'd developed that second personality that she talked to all the time and he decided that her old self wasn't so bad after all. And there was that _smell_. It was terrible, no matter how much perfume or air freshener she used. Somewhere down the road she had gone completely 'round the bend and it looked like going mad with Blood Magic made you smell like a dead body.

"_I know you were with her, Precious. I can smell her presence in your mind. Are you with her little circle, then?"_ He sat up and turned his head, his eyes roving about the chamber he'd been given. All movements done entirely without his permission.

"_Hey stop that! This is **my** body, woman! Use your own!"_

Two voices laughed in his mind and he winced again. Was that normal? Probably. You only had one mouth so the personalities had to take turns with that, but who was to say the brain had such limitations?

"_I don't think he's in the Titan's Tower, Darling."_

"_But I'm sure they'll know where he is. I imagine they'll be keeping him in the same place they're keeping Sister Fear."_

"_Nope. She's dead."_ X sneered back.

"_Oh? Then why is it we cannot find her body?"_

"_Hell if I know. Something about being stupid with low magic. They were very sure she's dead. Now, if that's all you're after you can get off my case and on to a spike or something."_

"_Darling, let me handle this."_

"_Please do."_

"_Get out of my head, Woman!"_

"_But you want the little dark bird, do you not? Oh you think you don't, but there is a part of you that knows. She should be yours. You were promised to her at birth."_

That voice suddenly sounded…strange. Like…bells…

"_I don't even like her! Alright, so she's kinda cute but that's about it! Besides, she doesn't like me too much either so that's that! Now f*** off!"_ X came back, getting a hold of himself.

"_Such language. Come now, Precious. You're breaking your mother's heart."_

"_What heart?"_

"_Now, now. None of that."_

Bells…and laughter…some kind of music…

"_Stop that! I know what you're doing and it won't work! You've tried before but it never works! Not on me!"_ Even so, it was getting pretty hard to think.

His mind kept straying towards Raven. God but she was hot. What? Wait—no!

"_Oh you did train him, Darling. And quite well at that."_

"_I'm regretting it now."_

"_Oh don't fret. I'll have him soon. All I need are a few seconds."_

_Rings._ He'd put the stupid things in his pocket. Why hadn't be put them on?-! He fumbled around his hip area but his hand wasn't working right. He concentrated, focusing on being over-aware if his limbs.

Bells…they sounded so nice. Bells…why bells? Was that normal? Yeah, it happened a lot…

RINGS! Rings, rings, rings, rings, rings—there!

"Ouch!" The ring he'd grabbed clattered to the floor. The moment he touched it it'd burned. It burned him! Right through the glove! In fact, the glove itself looked undamaged. But when he pulled it away there was a blister forming on his palm.

"_That wasn't very nice of you, Precious."_ There was a snarl in that voice now. The bells didn't sound nearly so nice anymore. In fact, they sounded like a warning siren. The pain had been bad, and that blister was going to sting for a while, but his mind was suddenly sharp and clear and his body was his own. Red X dove down for the fallen ring.

"_No!"_

His hand just missed the ring but he kept on flailing with it, praying that her control would waver just enough that he could touch it again. But while her attention was on _that_ ring, he let his other hand fumble for the other. The moment his hand found it he heard a shriek in his head and his other hand closed around the one on the floor. For one white-hot second the both of them burned like hell. And then, abruptly, they were cool again.

He could feel the clarity in his head. It was like the rings had burned away some sort of fever. It _felt_ like he just got over a fever too. He was sweating and shaking and achy all over. And the burns were now on _both_ hands. Very sharp and calling loudly for his attention. _Damn_ they hurt!

Shakily he got one of the rings around the middle finger of the ungloved hand. Then he pulled the other glove off and put the second on _that_ middle finger. Wow, those burns looked pretty bad. He shoved the gloves into his pocket, got up, and got into the bathroom so he could get some water on them, using his palms as little as possible.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW! Red X indulged himself by uttering a long loud stream of profanity. It helped, a bit. He pulled his mask off and splashed water into his face to wash off some of the sweat. It cooled him down a bit. Then he looked up and stared blankly at his face in the mirror. It'd been a while since he'd seen it and dang but those were some major bags under his eyes. He'd been getting three square meals a day plus snacks for a while now but he still looked half starved. _And_ these people were crazed health nuts. You'd think they could plump him up a little.

Not that they had any idea they needed to. Who could tell with the mask on?

And now some of that needed food was about to come right up.

Marlen Zanith appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. "What happened?" he demanded. "Someone happened to turn your surveillance on to check on you and,"

"Hold that thought." X told him, aiming for the toilet.

When he was done he washed his mouth out in the sink, then investigated the cabinet behind the mirror. Yes! Mouthwash! He made extensive use of it.

"Well?" Zanith demanded when he was done.

"Nothing. Just feeling…nothing. Probably something in that fish I'm not use to. Was it the fish or the tea I should be avoiding?"

Zanith looked unconvinced but, thankfully, he didn't press the issue. "Very well, then." and he left.

Red X stared at his naked face, feeling exposed. He looked down at the rings, mentally thanking Red Eyes for them. Was it just him, or was there a bit of tarnish there that hadn't been there before?

How much time did he have?

(8)

A/N: Dun, dun, DUUUUN!-!-!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Can we do it with alcohol?

**PLEASE READ! **I am sorry to say that I am, indeed, going to have to skip Sunday's update. Fortunately the story has decided to start cooperating and I think I'm catching up so hopefully next week I'll be able to update on both Friday and Sunday as usual.


	42. The Carnage People

A/N: Weird title, I know, but this chapter was named after a very weird song by Flowing Tears that somehow seems to fit.

(8)

_Hrist entered the castle, though Madam Crow and I did not dare set foot within the town. She did not emerge for two days and two nights in which time I grew anxious, though Madam Crow assured me that a Dark Keeper could read the shadows just as she reads the words I do not speak. If there was danger for her then she would not have entered._

_When finally the Vuldein emerged from the abandoned castle I asked her what she had learned. Her expression was so very grave and somber that it frightened me greatly. For answer she questioned me about my knowledge of Blood Magic, which was minimal. She did not explain further, only gave council that the castle should be burned to the ground, though the surrounding town might be spared and people would find comfort in their homes once more when the castle was gone._

_And so I returned to King Yord and passed to him the Vuldein's verdict along with my assurances that this was the only means of ending the curse. Once this task was complete I made to escort Hrist back home in the north where the snow had mounted to grander heights and my black scarf saw a great deal more use._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 42 – The Carnage People**

As cliché a description as it was to use, what was spread out before her could only be described as a scene of carnage. All that was missing was the blood. Oh there were small splatters of it here and there – some of it staining a bit of cloth here or a bit of skin there – but for the most part the bodies were shriveled, gray, blotchy, and possibly the most horrible sight Raven had ever seen. It was a living nightmare, one she knew she would remember forever.

Damien had run back outside, no doubt aiming to find somewhere to be sick. Nightwing had remained. So had she, despite the efforts of the twins to turn her away. She now wished she had let them, but at the same time she felt this was something she needed to see; to see and to understand if only so she could fully appreciate the true horror of what they were facing. And the fact that the scene in front of them did not seem to have any effect on the twins other than to make them grave and quiet made her wonder just how many times they had encountered something similar. Or, maybe, something worse.

The crime scene itself was in the grand ballroom of a mansion. Signs of some extravagant party were still in evidence. Nothing had been touched, not yet. Even hardened Gotham police couldn't seem to figure out how to handle something like this. At least when other villains killed multiple people the bodies didn't look like something you'd get if you let H. P. Lovecraft watch Japanese horror movies. Plane old humdrum bullet wounds were so much easier to deal with.

The smell was the worst part. It was so intense that it felt like a solid physical force – and it had been that bad standing _outside_ the ballroom. The police had offered them gas masks but Raven just placed a temporary enchantment on one of her sapphires to keep the air around her pure and clean. It was working fairly well, but she was still catching a stray whiff of the all-consuming odor now and again.

The bodies had not been arraigned in any occult manner. No grand circles, no symbols, not even any writing on the walls in blood. They'd just been drained and dropped and then somewhere on their visible skin the Mark of Scath had been painted in that odd red ink. The police had counted 34 bodies in total. Almost all of them were, of not prominent and wealthy, then fairly well-off with comfortable lifestyles. The obese guests were very obvious in the crowd. They were the ones with the excessive amounts of clothing laying over their shrunken forms. And there was also the extra skin…lots of skin…

Raven stayed calm by sheer force of will but it was difficult. She was glad they'd left the others behind when Batman called. Cyborg might have been alright, but she doubted very much that anyone else could have handled this. She wasn't entirely sure _she_ could handle it. But she was. She had to. She owed it to these people.

"Aside from this there have been two others to date." Batman was telling them. He had pictures. Rorek took them both and sighed when he saw them.

"You are missing one, Serrah." he said.

"One what?" Nightwing asked, looking at them over Rorek's shoulder.

This time it was Malchior who recited the mantra.

_Blood like they  
Bone like we  
Salt like thee  
Tear like me  
Warmth like world  
Feast of the Serpent._

"You have the words 'like' and 'we' here, but you are missing 'bone'." Rorek reported, handing the pictures back to Batman.

"We'll call out a search." said Commissioner Gordon. "Anything else you can tell us about this cult?" he asked.

"Only that we think they've moved to Jump City." Nightwing answered.

Batman looked at Raven. "I thought they were staying out of your territory." he said, a question in that statement.

"Not anymore, it seems." she responded.

"Do you have any idea what their interest is in you?" he asked.

"Yes." she answered.

"Mind telling me?"

"Yes."

"It is not relevant in this particular case, Serrah." Rorek told him. He took another look around the room and then turned to the commissioner. "I understand you are the civil authority in this matter. Then I will tell you this: What has happened here is the result of deep and forbidden magics that has been lost for centuries and the stain of this act will have an impact upon this place."

"Your meaning?"

"This house will become what you might refer to as 'haunted', though it is not what you think. There is no such thing as a ghost in the way this modern culture thinks of them. What there is are memories, an imprint, a very real and sometimes physical taint of the sins committed, and there will be…shadows. The shadows will be the worst for they are not evil but simply drawn by the evil and angered. Something like this will anger them a lot, and they will not care who suffers for it so long as the price is paid – even if it is paid by someone uninvolved. What I am saying is that you must finish your work in this house as soon as possible and then burn it to the ground. Anyone who tries to live here after this _will die_."

Gordon nodded, looking grim. "I'll see what we can do. Doubt anyone would want to buy this place anyway."

Raven looked around. Yes, there _were_ shadows here. Watching…

She shivered slightly and Malchior was immediately at her side, an arm around her shoulders. She had the feeling that offering an invitation to _these_ shadows would be a very bad and very terminal idea. The best thing to do would be to leave and, yes, torch the place. The fire would probably appease them…probably. And then again, all it might do is calm them for a time. She wished she could feel better about that, but Rorek was right. They wouldn't care who paid the price as long as it was paid. They weren't evil, but they weren't friendly, they weren't nice, and they weren't what the common man might call 'fair'.

She didn't quite understand what they_ were_…and she hoped she never did.

The Titans and Batman left the mansion. Damien was outside sitting on a park bench with his head between his legs. He looked up when they approached. "I never thought…" he murmured, his face stricken and pale. It was the most emotion his face had expressed in the short time they'd known him. "I mean, I never imagined…how can people _do_ that? I just don't understand."

"The beings who did this no longer have the right to call themselves _people_." Malchior spat.

"Do I need to remind you that we don't kill?" Batman asked.

"What you do not seem to understand, Serrah, is that there is a difference between a kill and a murder. And what I think you truly intend to say is 'we do not murder', and you simply refrain from killing in order to avoid committing such an act by accident, leaving such things up to the civil power to decide. But there is no doubt here. There will be no accident here. The death of this entire cult will not be murder." Rorek said. He then stood directly in front of The Batman and looked him in the masked eye. "You are welcome to disagree with me. But you cannot stop me. I have seen this before, Batman. It will get worse. Much worse. I will _not_ allow it to happen because of your dangerous notions about mercy!" he exclaimed. "Mercy is the prerogative of individuals! It is a gift! Not a right as your guilt-kind society seems to believe! Mercy is for those who repent and beg forgiveness with the understanding that they do not deserve it! Mercy is _not_ for those who have fallen so far to the Sin of Gods that they would do _this_! Your society does no good for these villains your so-called _justice system_ spares!" he shouted.

Raven took hold of one of Rorek's arms. The muscles were so tense, but they relaxed under her touch and he looked at her in surprise, as though he'd forgotten she was there.

You didn't often think of ice as being able to rage like that, but it did. Blizzards raged, cold winds bit, and ice could burn as painfully as fire.

"We've all had a shock." she said soothingly. She looked over at Batman, ready to apologize, but he had a very peculiar expression on his face. It was in the shape of his eyes and the turn of his mouth. He did not look upset or shocked or taken aback. Instead…

All the same, she was surprised when he suddenly said, "You're right." _Everyone_ was surprised. Even Rorek. "_But_," Batman went on, holding up a finger, "there have to be checks and balances. _We_ are not the people to do this. We cannot simply stand up and decide that we know better than the governments and do things our way without consulting them. If we do, if it gets to that level…" he shook his head. "I've seen what happens. It isn't a pretty picture. Power goes to people's heads and it will go to ours if we don't keep ourselves and each other in line. I agree that, in this case, these 'people' need to die. But where will it end? Say we find something else almost as bad as this and decide the situation is the same. And then it progresses until we've lost sight of what is and is not acceptable." he stated.

"We understand this better than you think." Malchior said. "It is called The Sin of Gods; a progressive state of mind at the end of which is the ideal that people are things and the practice of treating them as such. It is the very thing we are facing with this magic and is one of the most destructive and devastating sins in the world."

"I'll take your word for it, though I have a friend who would object to the title of that sin." Batman said with a slight smirk.

"Yes, well, they can take it up with my ancestors who were actually around when the gods were still alive and know _exactly_ how they acted." Malchior stated bitterly. "If even half the stories are to be believed then we're lucky we only have Blood Magic to deal with." _'At the moment.'_ came his spill words.

Batman's smirk faded. He was regarding Malchior with some consideration. "It occurs to me that you're old enough to be part of the Justice League." he said.

"We're old enough to be its ancestor." Malchior returned.

"Why do you _look_ like an adolescent?" Batman asked.

"Extensive use of certain magics tends to stunt one's aging process. Can you imagine what it's like to be well over a thousand years old with a brain that still thinks it's only just gotten over puberty?" Malchior asked.

"No. I can't." There was a ghost of a smirk on Batman's face. It faded, though, as they got back to business. "If the Church of Blood is in Jump City now then I think it would be a good idea for Lady Eisen to go back with you." he said.

"The Tower's getting pretty crowded, isn't it?" Raven mused, trying very, _very_ hard to stop thinking about what she'd just seen. They all were.

"We've got the space. We might as well use it." Nightwing answered with a shrug.

"The storage basement's going to be seeing a lot of activity."

(O)

Malchior, to everyone's shock and amazement, offered to move into Rorek's room. Not just temporarily either. It was apparently something he and Rorek had been privately discussing and agreed upon, though Malchior _was_ going to be bringing his own bed into the room with him so all that really did was eliminate the question of space, not beds.

There was only one spare bed left and it was the one they had shoved into Red X's room. Raven brought that back up stairs and Jinx, who was taking some time off from the Wax Ribbon and refusing to leave, was given Malchior's old room. He hadn't really done much to it in the time he'd been there so all they really needed to do was unhook the game station Beast Boy had brought in and remove some of the broken furniture (no one asked).

That left Damien, Kid Flash, and Lady Eisen. The couch was big enough that three people could crash on it, but an extra room was being cleaned out and Cyborg was off to buy a few air mattresses anyway.

Starfire wanted to celebrate the new additions to their team, even if they were only temporary.

"Can we do it with alcohol?" Malchior asked, almost pleadingly. "Seriously, what I wouldn't give for a good bottle of wine."

"You'll have to talk to Cyborg about that. The rest of us are still under age." Nightwing said.

"This I shall do." he said, producing his communicator.

Raven did most of the space-clearing this time since she could easily teleport everything around. Once that was done it didn't seem like there was much left to do but worry and wait. So she went to the roof to meditate. Rorek followed her.

"I do not think it would be a good idea for anyone to wander alone. Especially outside the tower." he explained. "That is my excuse, anyway." he added with a slight twinkled in his eye. She found herself smiling back, though she couldn't think of anything to say.

She meditated until night fell, expecting at any moment for there to be a siren or even an explosion. There was nothing. The city was quiet, at least from a superhero's viewpoint. She finished and indicated that she was leaving to Rorek, who had decided to do some of his own meditating. He nodded and then, once he was back on his feet, swept into a bow in front of her. "Shall I escort you to your quarters, My Lady?" he asked, offering her his arm.

She couldn't stop the smile or the chuckle. "But of course, _My Lord_." she returned cheekily, taking his arm. She liked being able to touch him so freely, even to draw so close to him. She wondered if he was overcoming his distaste for touch or if it was just her. She liked to think it was just her, though she knew that was selfish.

"Now do not start that again." he said.

She just smiled. The whole 'my lady' thing didn't seem that much of a thing anymore. It was just his way and, in a way, she felt like it had somehow become _their_ thing. If that made sense.

The hall was deserted. It looked like most people had turned in. The tower felt quiet.

Rorek hesitated a moment at her door, looked around, and, quite suddenly, had her pressed up against the wall. Malchior wasn't the only one who could move fast. Raven gasped and felt a thrill in the pit of her stomach when she looked up into Rorek's crystal blue eyes. The look he was giving her made her knees a bit weak and she was suddenly feeling light-headed.

"You know, Lady Raven, in my time it was the man who kissed the woman. And while I have enjoyed the reverse, I do feel it is a bit unfair." he murmured in a low voice, "May I kiss you?"

Face red and heart pounding, she nodded.

He lifted a hand to remove the scarf from his face and bent down to capture her lips with his.

The kiss was slow and sweet at first. He massaged her lips this way and that, breaking off only to come back, his arms wrapped around her though hers were folded against his chest – the last wall of defense she had against this; against him; them. But slowly – a nudge here, an urge there – and he was coaxing her arms up and around his shoulders, his neck. She clung to him, pressed against his armor, his hands moving slowly, caressing hip, waist, back, cheek, hair; places she never before imagined she'd be touched so lovingly, never thought she'd feel so close to someone to allow it, even enjoy it.

So did this count as a third, fourth, or fifth kiss? It didn't matter. The experience was still so new and novel and thrilling to her that each of them felt like another first.

She wanted more, and she found that, the more pliable she made herself in his hands, the more she got. Soon his kisses became deeper, his hands more firm. He turned into something dominating and powerful, taking over and asserting his control. Part of her tried to object but a surprisingly larger part of her found that she didn't mind. In fact, in a way, it was quite liberating. It meant the burden of responsibility that control always came with was taken from her shoulders, leaving her feeling light and free within his arms. Light, free, and utterly safe.

She trusted him. She knew he wouldn't abuse her, would only ever treat her as a lady. Even now, she realized, he would only go as far as she was willing to allow, would only take what she gave him and nothing more. And what he took he returned with an affection that was overwhelming. She wished she could reciprocate but her capacity in this matter began and ended in returning the kiss with all the skill of a few times' experience. In her opinion these small movements and actions on her part were only enough to encourage his menstruations and nothing more.

His taste, his scent, the twang of sensuality in his aura, and the palpable emotions of desire, longing, and single-minded focus all centered on her; she felt like a small fish trying to navigate an unfamiliar ocean in a storm. But she wanted this, even if it was too much. She wanted it all. She just wished she knew how to let herself have it. All she could do was let him have his way here against the wall next to her room.

Time lost all meaning. There was only him and their bodies and a growing hunger for something she didn't understand and tried to ignore. She'd felt this before; with Malchior; with the both of them. It was something she had wanted to ask her mother about but couldn't find the nerve. It was deep, she realized. It had roots in the primal red places and part of her thought she knew what it was but was too frightened and wary to acknowledge it.

Eventually Rorek broke away, leaving the both of them panting. He remained close to her, his arms around her, but he shifted so that he could also lean against the wall. That seemed to be the end of it, but she didn't want to stop even though she was quite sure her legs would give out under her if she let him go.

"W-why did you stop?" she asked once she remembered how to speak.

"Because if you keep making those sounds, My Love, I might just go insane." he answered, smiling down at her.

Raven's already flushed face went a deep red. Sounds? What sounds? She was making sounds? Had anyone heard her?

He just called her 'My Love'…this time she couldn't stop the smile. "S-sorry." she mumbled, embarrassed and pleased and embarrassed because she was pleased all at the same time. She craned her neck 'round to glance down the hall but even her senses were telling her that there was no one around or awake. Well that was a mercy at least.

He let out a sigh of contentment and pulled her even closer so that her head was resting in the crook of his neck, pillowed by his scarf. His chin rested on the top of hers and he laced his fingers into her hair. "May I assume now that we have been forgiven?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes." she answered, trying not to laugh. She'd forgiven them quite a while ago. Maybe she should have told them. The subject just hadn't come up.

"Then would it be presumptuous of us to consider you our – I suppose the word would be – 'girlfriend' and declare this to the others?" he asked.

"I hate to break it to you, but I think Malchior already took care of that." Raven said. Ever since she got back from Azarath she'd been getting _comments_ that she had very carefully been ignoring. It wasn't easy, especially when even _Nightwing_ was grinning.

"Yes, but I have noticed that our friends find it difficult to tease him about anything because he has no shame and openly admits his affection without hesitation. Perhaps if we do the same we can avoid similar feelings of embarrassment." he responded.

He had a point there.

"I have a condition," she told him.

"Anything." he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

Her face, which _had_ begun to regain its original color, went right back to red. But she persevered. "It has to become public knowledge that you two are, in a sense, one person." she said.

"Of course. One or both of us will inform miss Jinx and she can pass the message on to the internet. Malchior tells me this would be as good as a world-wide declaration."

She considered this. "To be honest, I may have already helped you in that respect. Well, I've told her things. I don't know how much she's told the internet."

"We can clarify, just in case." he said, his fingers were still in her hair. "Better that people mistake us for being one and the same than mistake you for a scarlet woman."

"You mean a whore?"

"Thank you, I _was_ trying to be delicate." he said, pulling back so he could give her an irritated look. She grinned. It was nice to see him so flustered after that emotional rollercoaster he'd just put her through – not that she hadn't enjoyed it. But he smiled and drew her into his arms for a goodnight embrace. Then he sighed and pulled her head back into place under his chin. "This is not going to be easy." he murmured.

"I know."

"And you are going to be faced with the worst of it, I'm afraid."

"Historically and biologically speaking, the female usually is." she mused. "But then, no one said life was going to be fair. What's the point in being bitter about it?"

Rorek chuckled. "The scriptures tell us that Iiam Bormah will not place before us a hardship that we cannot overcome. Whether we find the means and strength to overcome it in time or not is another matter. One way or another, we can make this work, though it will not be easy."

"You once told me that Iiam Bormah gives us hardships in order to strengthen us. I think there's another reason."

"Mmm?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with being alive."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do you know when you're dreaming? In most narrative traditions people will pinch themselves to make sure they're not dreaming. You can't feel pain in a dream, not _real_ pain, anyway. So you're not really awake when there's no pain, right?"

"I think I know what you're trying to say…but what I think you mean to say is that life should not be too _easy_ or it is no longer life. One does not necessarily have to suffer to feel alive. Bearing the pain of a well-worked muscle is not necessarily suffering. In fact, one can rarely gain more self-worth than from time spent in fruitful toil. You seem to be on the right track, though." He drew back and kissed her on the top of the head before releasing her. His absence was almost painful and she didn't want to let him go. But, smiling, he took her arms from around his neck and gave her a short, sweet kiss on the lips. "Goodnight, My Love."

"G-goodnight." she stammered out.

(O)

She couldn't sleep. This time, though, it was partly because of restlessness and partly because she was afraid to. The image of all those sick bodies, the Mark of Scath everywhere, bringing the fact of Trigon's continued existence – in whatever form – to the forefront of everyone's mind. Did he know the Church of Blood had done that? Would he care? Were they somehow getting orders from him? Had he even ordered this?

Raven had never been much for religion. There were several mixing in Azarath and they were allowed so long as whatever practices they demanded did not interfere with the generally peaceful society that had been built. Marlen Zanith professed to a Christian faith as had Azar. Raven herself, however, had abstained. At least from the actual _being religious_ part. Academically it has fascinated her and she studied as many different religions as the Azarathian records could give her. But to actually _believe_…

Perhaps she felt as though she had no place in the world of this omnipotent God when her father was, perhaps, as close to the Christian adversary, Satan, as one could get in the physical dimensions. In some ways he had _become_ Satan, or his image had. Horns, hooves, fangs…all he was missing was the pitchfork and arrowhead tail (though in some of the less delicate depictions it wasn't actually a _tail_). In some cases that terrible destiny that she had been born to could be considered similar to that of the antichrist. It was a bit depressing to think that, perhaps, the entire book of Revelations wasn't talking about Satan being Satan, but Satan being Trigon.

She tried not to think too hard about that. Although, if she _did_ think about it in a purely objective way, it might be possible to burst out laughing. Say she _wasn't_ the antichrist, say she was to be the mother of this antichrist instead, but the daddy had to be a fully-initiated Brother Blood. Well, as it turned out, that entire deal had gotten completely screwed up. She was fighting tooth and nail against all of this, Brother Blood wasn't going to be if he had any say in the matter _what_soever, she was fully prepared to drown any horned babies she happened to have (unless, perhaps, said horns were _dragon_ horns and, Sweet Maartuz, did she actually just think that thought?), and if she was going to accept any religion it would more than likely be the Teachings of Maartuz – which was supposedly like the Christian faith but for dragons.

Right now, though, after seeing what the Church of Blood was capable of, she was starting to seriously consider this whole praying business. Did you pray to Iiam Bormah the same way the Christians prayed to their God? Just sort of closed your eyes and begged for help? _'Don't let them win. Don't let Trigon come back. Please make this stop, make them pay for what they did. Let them all die like Sister Fear had.'_

But, apparently, Iiam Bormah didn't work like that. And if He did, then He didn't do it by snapping His fingers and saying, 'there, done, anything else?' It was hard to come to terms with because she wanted to think less of Him for being so seemingly distant, but in a sense Raven thought she understood a bit of it. It had something to do with the galvanizing hardships Rorek had talked of. If you did everything for someone, handled all their problems, did all their work, and made all their decisions, then they became incapable of doing anything for themselves. They became weak, complacent, used to ease, and completely unable to deal with whatever trials you tried to put before them. They couldn't face their own life, couldn't face the price of the free will that wasn't, in fact, free. That wasn't to say you couldn't _help_, but there was a point where you had to step back and say, 'there, I've showed you how/what to do, now you have a go and if you have trouble, I'm right here'. People found their self-worth in the effort of fruitful labor. Make things too easy and where did that go?

All the same, the sight of those bodies was getting to her. She thought she'd taken care of that with her meditation but it was coming back like a festering wound. She needed to distract herself (one would think kissing Rorek would be a good enough distraction but apparently not). Or she needed to at least find some way of getting into her dreamscape. She could survive without actual dreams for a while.

She went into a specific closet, opened a specific chest, and began rummaging around in the pile of little rag dolls for a specific book. Her hand emerged with a book, but it was the wrong one. It was the black one, the grimoire. She put her hand in again and this time fished out the only other book she'd put in there. She was about to put the black one back but hesitated.

Well…it might prove to be a decent distraction. She'd put the white book under her pillow and try to read a bit of the black one. Maybe once she got into her dreamscape she could convince Malchior to give her another Draconic lesson instead of sleeping.

So she settled down, white book under her pillow and black book in her hand. She opened it up to a random page and found that picture of humans and dragons fighting with humans riding the dragons. She remembered it, but considering what she now understood about dragons this seemed a bit odd. Dragons shouldn't be getting involved in human wars, should they?

She read the caption beneath. Some kind of war, but the word used to describe what kind of war it _was_, was one she didn't know. It was probably a specific place; maybe a kingdom? She tried to read a bit of the page next to it but it seemed to be describing some spells that must have been used in this war, not the war itself. This _was_ a grimoire, after all. Presumably spellfire was too boring for the artist, Rorek (then Rorel), and he preferred to depict the origins of these spells. She flipped a few random pages and found the picture of a hooded woman with an unusually large sword in one hand. The word below it was 'Zahrahmiik', which meant 'sacrifice'. Raven had to turn a page back in order to work out what this section was describing. It had something to do with the flexibility of the human body and its ability to change.

Huh?

As far as Raven understood it, the human body was actually very difficult to change. Oh it was certainly possible and it happened all the time, but it _wasn't_ easy. You couldn't take the flesh of some powerful magical creature, shove it into a human body, and expect something grand and magical to come out like this passage seemed to be suggesting. There was a whole lot more to it than that. And, more often than not, it was a complete accident. That was something she was going to have to ask Rorek about later.

Then she came to the picture with the three winged women with the huge swords and black outfits. She froze.

Okay, no, that was simply not possible. It _couldn't_ be. But the more she stared the more sure she was. Oh there were some differences; hairstyle, the eyes were slightly off, the face and body were both older, and there were, of course, the whole _wings_ thing…

But why in the _world_ did the winged woman in front look so much like Lady Eisen?

And, now that she was looking a bit more closely, the other two looked familiar as well. She couldn't place them, though one seemed a bit more familiar than the other. But there was no mistaking the middle woman. None at all.

It was no use. She was going to have to wake the twins up. This was _too weird_.

(O)

"Well, I admit they look _similar_ but—"

"Daanik, Rorek, use your eyes! They are all but identical! I _thought_ this Eisen woman looked familiar…"

"But how? Lady Eisen could not possibly be Melphia. She would have recognized us."

"Yeah? And how well do you think you can remember everything if you spent over a thousand years living and making new memories?"

"She would remember us, I think."

"Alright, granted, but we certainly didn't remember her if that's the case."

"The winged helmet…"

"Granted, but I don't remember her having the power to manipulate metals. And none of them ever needed any kind of armor."

"Would you two mind letting me in on the secret?" Raven demanded.

"It is not a secret, Raven, I am sorry. We are just as shocked as you are, probably more so." Rorek said.

"So who is she? Who is Melphia?" Raven asked.

"She is, or was, a living weapon. One of three that were developed in the war against Blood Magic. They weren't the first, of course. The first three rose to combat the very conception of Blood Magic. They succeeded…but only for so long it seems." Malchior explained. "They were called Furies by the Greeks, and Valkyrie by the Norse. In both instances they were portrayed as goddesses. In a sense they were very much like gods, except that they had the ability to die and the first three were recorded in Draconic texts as having taken their own lives once their task was completed."

"But the second three didn't?" Raven asked.

"We do not know. Once their duty had been completed they simply vanished." Rorek told her.

"Rorek was a bit upset about that." Malchior snickered. Rorek gave him a sharp glare.

"You called them living weapons; were they made?" Raven asked.

"Yes, in a way. Human bodies, living female bodies, were taken and infused with the flesh of some god-like being we never quite knew too much about and this gave them incredible strength, speed, adaptability, longevity, extreme healing rates, and odd powers they developed over time." he answered.

"Why women?" Raven asked.

"Only women could survive the process." Rorek explained.

"Call it proof that the whole 'weaker sex' bit is a complete fallacy."

"Biologically speaking, female bodies _do_ have less muscle mass so it's not a _complete_ fallacy if the term 'weak' simply means 'having less physical force'." Raven pointed out.

"Very logical. But, human nature being what it is, you know bloody well that's not what is meant. In any case, female bodies, apart from being far more attractive than male bodies – especially yours, Love,"

"Can you please get to the point?"

"But you look so fetching with your cheeks all rosy pink like that."

"_Malchior_…"

"Very well," though he was still grinning. "Female bodies are, as you helpfully pointed out, not as large, sturdy, or as muscular as male bodies and therefore do not generally have as much physical force, but they are built to take a lot more stress than the male. They have to be. Childbirth is no picnic. The conception of new life demands a high price and the female body was designed to pay it. Also, have you ever wondered why women have a much more difficult time losing weight than men? It is because male muscle demands far more energy for its effort than female muscle. If a woman had the same muscle mass as a man she would still have less of an appetite. More efficient, you see. Another necessity. It is the baby that needs to get all that food while the mother still needs the ability to function."

"Males were tried first, of course. Some conventions are strong because there is a reason for them and the fact is that male bodies are more suited to be warriors. But they all died and women were called for. Out of the dozens that came forward three were chosen. Melphia, Seetho, and Azria. The next Furies." Rorek told her.

"And it's possible that Lady Eisen could be Melphia?" Raven asked.

"Possible? Yes. The Furies weren't gods but there is a reason many polytheistic beliefs deified them. Eternally young, immune to disease, to poison, could regenerate entire limbs if necessary, had strange powers aside from their strength and speed; yes. They would not die easily, which is a positive quality in a weapon. In theory they could live on until the world explodes. However, I really have a hard time imagining Melphia being caught in such a trap by any Blood Magic practitioners, even an establishment as old and organized as the Church of Blood. The Furies could smell Blood Magic a mile off and the moment they caught the scent you can be sure they'd be on the hunt with only one aim in mind." Malchior explained.

"Could she be a reincarnation?" Raven asked.

"You've been reading too much Science Fiction, Love. Reincarnation doesn't happen, not by itself. And it is not pleasant when it does."

"How _does_ it happen?" Raven asked.

"Gods." Rorek answered, looking grim. "They had the ability to sort of _save_ a mortal soul just before the mortal died and then place it in the body of an unborn child, which pushed aside the soul that was already there. The child that grows up is very fortunate if they retain no memories of their previous life. But sometimes they did and it was…it never ended well. Probably some of them meant it to be kind, but it was a curse. Those who were aware of their consecutive lives suffered greatly."

"And the gods were all gone long before you two were born, right?" They nodded. "So it could be Melphia, but changed? You said they developed powers over time. What if a lack of use and necessity dulled her power and senses?" she offered.

"Possible, but unlikely. I suggest we ask her personally." Malchior said.

"I am sure it can wait until morning." Rorek pointed out.

"Yeah, it probably could have…sorry." Raven murmured sheepishly.

Malchior draped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "We don't mind." he said. "We don't need quite as much sleep as humans anyway."

Neither did she, in all honesty. But she was used to it and she didn't really feel at her best when she didn't get it.

"Want to spend the night?" Malchior asked, grinning. Of course he would ask that, at night, while he was shirtless.

The obvious answer was 'yes'. She slept so much more peacefully when they were close. But...

"We should not." Rorek said with some reluctance. "Nightwing would have our heads up on spikes if he found out."

"I'm sure he wouldn't go _that_ far..." Raven said.

"Oh you would get off with no more than a scolding, but beneath that pleased smirk of his he is still a bit sore at Malchior and I for…well…our negligence." Rorek told her.

"Ah."

"Who says he'll find out?" Malchior asked, his arms coming around Raven's waist, pulling her close so her back was up against his chest; his very naked, very well-muscled chest…

Her face was red, she knew it. She really wanted to snuggle in and let him carry her over to his bed.

But…

Rorek stepped forward and gently but firmly pulled Raven out of Malchior's grip, giving him a stern look. His expression softened when he turned to Raven. "It really is not appropriate." he told her gently.

"Yes, I know..." she said a bit mournfully.

Malchior muttered something under his breath that she didn't quite catch but otherwise he didn't argue further.

So she returned to her room, half grateful for and half irritated at Rorek's gentlemanly nature. She had the grimoire (well, it was hers after all), but perhaps she could get some sleep now that she had something else buzzing through her head.

White book under her pillow, she settled down and, fortunately, found it quite easy to slip into her dreamscape where Rorek was waiting on the couch. He nodded to her and she settled in the bed, closing her eyes to dream.

(8)

A/N: Doesn't it frustrate you when some authors only give you the one kiss and think that's enough? :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
This whole 'being an item' thing was going to take some research. She should probably go ask Jinx what all she was supposed to get irrationally angry about.

Good news! I _will_ be updating Sunday! I managed to get nearly caught up and am still rolling. Next weekend things are going to start getting interesting :D


	43. Living Iron

A/N: Not a whole lot of reviews last chapter. I blame the schools. Stupid schools, stealing away my readers' time!

(8)

_I returned to the High Priest only to set out days later with his sword as my token and another dragon's head to claim. No longer did I have companions for Hrist had returned to her home in its nest of ice and Madam Crow had vanished once more. The months were growing colder and snow became master of these southern lands as well. I trekked through territories unknown to me until finally I arrived at my destination and witnessed the ruin of my quarry's sin. The inches of snow were not enough to cover the shapes of the corpses, however, and I felt my heart grow cold at the sight._

_I was accustomed to perceiving dragons as noble creatures of enigmatic occupation aside from the building of grand structures carved with scripture and poetry. I understood, in a vague fashion, how other lands believed them to be greedy, cunning beasts of fire and destruction. Until now I believed this to be a perception of the blind and the ignorant. But just as humans were flighty and diverse, so were the dragons. Yet when a human succumbed to their greed and bloodlust they were not often so powerful as to cause such wreckage so easily._

_Even so I hated to kill the dragon. It was not that he appeared before me in human shape, it was not even the tale he wove of how he had been wronged and his destruction was justified. Did these humans pose such threat to him that he must retaliate thusly? There was no excuse for the destruction he wrought. It was simply that he was a dragon which made me hesitate. Yet I completed the deed regardless and journeyed back to the High Priest._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 43 – Living Iron**

"**What have you done?-!"**

"**With this power I can free you."**

"**No! You cannot! No good can come of such an act! Release the power and turn from it now! Repent this sin!"**

"**It was merely a bandit. He would have killed me first if I had not!"**

"**Then you should have simply killed him. Not this! Divest yourself of that power!"**

"**It will free you!"**

"**I will not accept this! You cannot correct sin with sin! Wash your hands of this foul magic and seek it no further!"**

"**But this is the only way!"**

"**No! There is another way. I will not accept this!"**

"**What if there is not?"**

"**I would sooner remain bound like this until the end of time than be freed by that putrid power."**

Raven's eyelids fluttered and she turned over in bed. Another strange dream…she went back to sleep.

(O)

Lady Eisen was grinning. She was trying not to, but she had no poker face and it was clear the moment she saw Malchior and Rorek waiting for them in Raven's room that she knew what this interview was going to be about. For a while no one said anything. Malchior and Rorek stared at her. She grinned. Finally she cracked up and started laughing.

"You are _not_ Melphia." Malchior stated flatly.

Lady Eisen shook her head, still laughing. "O-Ophilia." she corrected. "Her daughter." she said, still grinning.

"Daughter!" Rorek exclaimed. "But, but that is impossible! Furies cannot bear children!"

"Well, considering I'm the only child of a woman who lived to be a thousand years old, I'd say it's possible, just very, very difficult." she said. "I wasn't sure it was you at first, you know," she went on. "I suspected but wasn't sure. I mean, I've never seen an actual picture of either of you and it was a big conclusion to jump to, all things considered. Then Batman told me your names and I knew it _had_ to be you since that was way too big of a coincidence. Mother told me to watch out for the books because she was sure you were still around. She also told me that if I found you to give you," she indicated Malchior, "a righteous smacking." Malchior actually drew back in some alarm, but Lady Eisen laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to. That's her job now." she said, nodding to Raven.

"Is it written on my face or something?"

"No, Batman mentioned it. He thought there was a bit of a love triangle going on between the three of you too. Don't worry, I explained."

Oh well, Batman picking up on this stuff was nothing new. And it wasn't as though either Rorek or Malchior had been particularly discreet.

"Where is your mother now?" Rorek asked.

"She died about 20 years ago. Sorry. It seems you just missed her." Eisen answered.

"Oh…and, how old would you be?" Rorek asked.

"My birth certificate, if I had one, would say 137 this winter. But my mind and body say 18 at most." she answered.

"Well we certainly know what that's like." Malchior said.

"Do you know what happened to the other Furies?" Rorek asked hopefully.

"Azria died 8 to 10 years ago, but if Seetho is still alive I don't know where she is or how to get a hold of her. I saw her last when she came to tell me about Azria." Eisen answered. "Did you know Azria and Merlin were an item? No joke."

"I would love to hear everything you know of the Furies and their lives after the war, but for now I would very much like to make contact with Seetho, if she is still alive. Have you any notion whatsoever of where she might be? Any past places of living or hiding?" Rorek asked.

Eisen shook her head. "None. Sorry. She knows how to find me but the Furies all considered me perfectly capable of taking care of myself as soon as my powers matured. I am not nearly as strong or as fast as they are but, to be fair, neither is anyone else. Even Superman would find himself in a great deal of trouble if Seetho decided to cut him down to size."

"Ophelia, a god would find his or herself in a great deal of trouble if Seetho decided to do some cutting." Rorek said with a chuckle.

Raven produced The Mortix at its appropriate page and showed it to Lady Eisen. "Which one is Seetho?" she asked.

"Wow, that's a very good illustration. That's Seetho." Eisen answered, pointing to the Fury on the left.

So that meant the last one was Azria. Raven might just be imagining the familiarity of these two, though. They were both mostly profile images and weren't that much of a close-up in the first place. Melphia was the one in front and most clearly defined.

"Was Melphia the leader?" Raven asked.

"I don't think there was a 'leader', exactly. Though Mother once admitted to me that, during those rare occasions when there wasn't a consensus and they needed someone to have the final say, that person was almost always Azria. Not Melphia." Eisen answered.

"She's just the one Rorek liked the most." Malchior came in.

"Malchior, if you do not shut up about this…"

Lady Eisen's eyes went very wide. "You…had a thing for my mother? That's…kinda creepy."

"It's what happens when you have eternal youth and live for an unnatural length of time. If you had any crushes of your own in your earlier days then by now they'd be someone's grandfather, wouldn't they?" Rorek reasoned.

Eisen cringed. "Alright, you got me there." she admitted. "Did you ever have to go through High School or have you only been released from the book recently?" she asked.

"A month or two at most." Rorek answered. "Perhaps longer. I am having a difficult time keeping track of the days."

"I've had to do various versions of High School so many times in so many countries I've lost count." Lady Eisen said. "I'm so glad of this new age of super heroes. Becoming a Teen Titan is an automatic exemption, it seems."

"Something like that, though I think there are a few who still go old school and manage to balance the life of a secret identity and keep their city safe from evil at the same time." Raven said.

"Not me. I'm done. And the glamorous life of a rock star is definitely not as glamorous as you'd like to believe. Do you know, they kept trying to have me use my powers during the show? Mother would have had my head if I'd stooped to that so I put my foot down. I never signed any contract that was binding, either. Well, I almost did. Have I thanked you for that, by the way?"

"Repeatedly." she answered.

"Ah, well, thank you."

"Is it alright if I speak to you in private? There are some things I would like to ask that are likely to have long and otherwise boring explanations." Rorek said, his eyes asking Raven and Eisen at the same time. Raven shrugged, wondering why he felt like he needed her permission. Huh, maybe he did. This whole 'being an item' thing was going to take some research. She should probably go ask Jinx what all she was supposed to get irrationally angry about.

"Yeah, okay." said Eisen.

When they were gone, Raven turned to Malchior, the grimoire still in hand. "There was something I wanted to ask you about, actually." she began.

"Of course."

"There was a passage in here describing the malleability of the human body. But in my experience it is _very_ difficult to change the human body unless it has already been changed. The height of most shape-change magics is the ability to alter your coloring." she said.

Malchior chuckled. "It is that way _now_, Raven. Back then, however, it was quite easy to change or be changed. Well, I say easy. In fact most thought it was quite hard at the time. Still, sorcerers an sorceresses were always turning into different things. The power of Beast Man was fairly common – probably one out of every five magic-users studied the discipline – though it was not nearly so easy for them as it is him and most humans only had a handful of different forms. Of course, there were some beings – ancestors of Beast Man, no doubt – who could freely transform into any animal they knew of. The Shifters. But in any case, bodies are far more static these days." he told her. "I wouldn't try any of that magic if I were you. Old magics are powerful, but there's a reason much of the knowledge in that grimoire has been forgotten."

"It stopped working?" she asked.

"No, it just got ridiculously difficult and required more power than the average magic-user has these days. Why? Are you aiming to learn some shapechange?" he asked.

"No, just curious. I wonder why things change so much." But she knew, didn't she? Ru had told her. Magic slowly slipped out of an aging world, didn't it? One day, in the future, there would be none left. Hmm, a world without magic. That had been the world's zeitgeist until recently. Seemed like all it really did was add an extra layer of convenience and, consequentially, bother.

Malchior just shrugged. "I've read several theories. The one I like the most is one which says that, long ago, human bodies didn't have as much iron in them, if they had any at all. But humans began to imbue their bodies with iron one way or another – tattoos, consumption, or outright injection – because they felt it made them stronger. And it did. It also, according to this theory, made it difficult for the more mystical and less corporeal beings that shared this world to, well, share this world."

"Why? I mean, it feels like iron is the bane of evil or something. Why would these other beings, who aren't necessarily evil, dislike it too?" she asked.

"For one thing, iron isn't exactly the bane of evil. Just the bane of Blood Magic, among other things." he explained. "For another, these beings possess a certain extra sense. It is not the sixth sense as humans know it, so let's call it the seventh sense. For them all the other senses – sight, sound, scent, taste, feel, and even the unnamed sixth sense – are ruled by this seventh sense. And this seventh sense was the sense of the love of iron. Human bodies began to possess so much iron they obtained a magnetic field. Can you imagine what such a thing would be like to a creature ruled by their sense of such forces? Oh some managed to adapt, I'm sure. But for most it was simply impossible and, over time, these beings drew back, drew away, and either died off or simply went elsewhere."

"These beings…would they be the Children of Pahmonah? The ones that are the ancestors of those altered by her flesh?" Raven asked.

"Most of them, yes. But I'm pretty sure there _were_ some magical beings that didn't come from Pahmonah – though they intermingled with the ones that did. So any distinction that might have emerged is very blurry." he answered.

"I assume the Nibelungen weren't among these beings." Raven mused, holding up the blue iron ring.

"No." he chuckled. "The less corporeal beings, remember? Nibelungen and dwarves have traditionally been _very_ corporeal. The less corporeal – or physical – a being is the more they have to rely on that seventh sense because all the other senses don't have properly physical instruments to be used for the task. Or, perhaps, what physical instruments they had simply don't work." he explained.

"I'm not sure I quite understand how you can get sight, sound, scent, taste, and feel out of electromagnetic currents, though." Raven said.

"They are a far more prominent part of the world than you would think. You know about Ether, do you not?"

"Yes. Science calls it Dark Matter these days. You're not saying that's the same thing, are you?"

"No, but they're not entirely separate either." he answered.

"Well, alright, but iron isn't the only magnetized metal in the world. There's also copper and cobalt. In fact, they're the metals that are most often used to make magnets out of. And the charge is stronger at that."

"But it is still the force known as the love of iron." Malchior stated. "These metals have the properties, but in the deep magics they would only be second best." He shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure why."

"Some say iron is what gives blood its color, though. It's certainly what gives it its metallic taste. Are you saying blood was a different color back then?"

He chuckled. "No. But it would have had a different taste, I'm sure."

"But the iron in a human's hemoglobin cell is what attracts the oxygen the body needs and contains it so the blood can move it around the body. How could people have even lived back then without iron? Even animals have iron in their blood." Raven pointed out.

Malchior cocked his head at her. "Raven, what makes you think the facts of today were the facts of long ago? Do you remember me mentioning that the world was softer back then? It could simply be that humans were once a magical race – at least compared to what they are today – but it turned out that they could take the magic out by bringing iron in to replace it. One way or the other, iron was not always a part of the human body."

For some reason, the phrase, 'iron of the mind' came up in her head but she couldn't quite figure out why. It felt like there was something her own mind was trying to tell her, and at the same time it also felt like a premonition – which she _hated_.

"Well alright, but iron is a very common metal. You'd think these beings wouldn't be able to handle living in a world where there is so much to begin with." she said.

"Yes, sometimes the most, let's say, scientific of theories don't always have the answer to everything. Again coming back to what I mentioned about the world's softness." he mused.

"Scientific? We're talking about magic."

"Today's magic is tomorrow's science, Raven." he reminded her. "And, long ago, magic _was_ the science."

"Hmmm…" she stared at the book for a minute. "You'd think that Blood Magic wouldn't be able to work with iron in the blood now. But I suppose there's not enough."

"No, there isn't."

A thought struck her, "Malchior,"

"What?"

"Could someone like Mother Mayhem, someone that rusts iron…could she rust the iron in your blood?" she asked worriedly.

Malchior shook his head. "No. The iron in your blood is…hmmm…I'm not sure how best to describe it. I guess the easiest way to explain it would be that the iron in your body is _living_ iron. It's part of you, part of your thoughts and your emotions. It breathes with you, flows through you. Living iron cannot be affected by Blood Magic. Too bad there's not enough of it to do any affecting of its own." he mused.

Raven looked down at her right hand. "Do you think _this_ is living iron, then?" she asked, holding up the Nibelungen ring.

Malchior cocked his head to the side. "Hmmm…I don't know. I always thought living iron would be red. That's an interesting idea. We may have to look into that in some depth later on. Is that all you wanted to ask?" he asked.

"For now, anyway." she answered. She smiled at him. "Thanks. You must be getting tired of all my questions."

"Never." he said, drawing forward. He gently took the book out of her hands and sent it levitating over to one of her bookshelves. She managed to resist the sudden urge to back away but he pressed in and kept going so she had no choice as he herded her towards the wall. The way he was looking at her was very much like the look Rorek had given her last night. "I enjoy teaching you, dii aazvah Ruvaak." he murmured, pulling his scarf down.

She stopped, offering up some resistance before her back actually found the wall. "Aazvah," she began. 'Aaz' was 'mercy' while 'vah' was 'spring'. Put them together and…well it was a bit of a leap but much of the Draconic she was picking up these days was mostly by feel. And that word _felt_ like… "That means 'sweet', doesn't it?"

He stopped, suddenly hesitant. A part of Raven dully marveled at how swiftly the towering, domineering figure of masculine potency that he'd become was now uncertain, a little frightened, and, perhaps, a bit guilty – as though he thought he'd made a huge mistake. "I'm…sorry. Is it a problem?"

Dii aazvah Ruvaak = My sweet Raven. Yeah, there was a bit of a problem.

"It's just…I prefer to associate who you are now with who you were then as little as possible. And that's what you called me when you…" 'When you were manipulating me.' She didn't voice that last bit, but it hung in the air between them. Was she reading her own spill words now? He seemed to hear them, though. If only subconsciously.

He looked down and moved back a bit. "Yes…" he murmured. "Sorry."

She felt bad then. He looked so forlorn that she tried to think of some way to get the moment back. It felt somewhat treacherous and contradictory – she'd never thought of herself as being the submissive type – but she much preferred the Malchior that was about to push her against the wall and take over to the one who was pulling away, ashamed and self-deprecating because of past mistakes. "I don't mind the other thing you called me. Um, 'Dii vul Ruvaak'?" she offered.

He looked up and blinked in confusion. "When did I call you that?" he asked.

Then she remembered. "Oh…that was when I went to visit you when you were all drugged up and you said…" She blushed. She could remember his words very clearly. Draconic was certainly a sticky language.

"I don't remember." he said with a sigh. "What did I say? Was it embarrassing?"

"Well I didn't understand what the phrase meant, exactly, but considering the way you said it and the fact that Cyborg was in the room, yes, it probably was."

"Vopruzah, what did I say?"

"'Hi kos hahnu zu'u lahney wah su'um'." she repeated. For what had to be the first time ever, Malchior blushed. He actually blushed! Raven was stunned. His moon-white cheeks were a very distinct shade of pink. It looked so strange and so alien. He was _blushing_! Not brightly but it was definitely a blush. She thought that wasn't possible. How could he be blushing? She was having a hard time getting around this.

"I said that, to you, in front of Cyborg?" he asked in a choked voice.

"He didn't understand what it meant, or even the words. And I wasn't about to tell him."

"Even so, that is definitely not something one says to another in front of other people." he said. "And it's…not something one says lightly. Sorry. If you were a Dovah female born to the language then you probably would have slapped me." he admitted sheepishly.

"Oh…so…what does it mean?"

He coughed. He looked uncomfortable but his gaze was steady when he looked her in the eye and answered, "I love you."

"Oh…" Well, she'd sort of guessed that, hadn't she? Her cheeks felt very warm, but so did other parts of her body; the back of her head, her spine, even her toes.

"Draconic has no single word for 'love', you understand." he went on. "There are combined words and extensive phrases, but no single simple word. It is not something we feel can be put into one word. It is like how some languages have only one word for both blue and green. To us, having only one word for love would be like having only one word for every color. That particular phrase is for…romantic love. It is part of a pair, actually. The other is very similar, but you only say it to your mate, er, spouse." he explained, his voice taking on that instructional tone in an attempt to cover up the awkward moment.

"Right."

"Raven…"

She'd been looking down at the floor but now she looked up and was surprised by the pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." he said.

No, no, _no_! This wasn't what she wanted! She wanted the strong, confident, maybe even a bit arrogant Malchior to come back. Maartuz, why did she have to go and open her big mouth? It wasn't as though the word 'aazvah' sounded anything like the word 'sweet'. Did she _have_ to make that association? Now he was feeling guilty again and it was her own fault for bringing all that up.

"Malchior, I…I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's better that you tell us something bothers you up front rather than letting it sit and become a cancer in your heart." he said.

"Alright." she agreed. Come on, think. There had to be _something_ she could say or do. She was so bad at this. Arella had told her that the male ego could be pretty delicate and there were few things a guy liked more than having said ego stroked (Raven had some doubts about this. In her personal experience there were few things guys liked more than pizza and video games). Arella then made an additional remark here but Raven had very carefully edited it out of her memory, whatever it had been. Too bad her mother hadn't told her _how_ you were supposed to st—to…um…erg…the ego…erm…

Apparently she hadn't been able to edit her memory as well as she'd thought. If only she knew how to flirt without feeling stupid and repeating cliché lines about muscles and so-forth.

"I just…I wish…maybe…" she fumbled, having _no_ idea what she was trying to say, if anything. "You should tell me if something's bothering you too…" she said by way of having nothing else.

Fortunately Malchior seemed to pick up on her frustration. He smiled. "Perhaps I do…"

Smiling, that was good. Encouraged, she stepped forward, wishing she could just come out and _say_ she wanted him to kiss her. She just couldn't think of how to do so without feeling stupid. "Right…anything?" she asked, their eyes locked.

"Well…" And, suddenly, the confident, powerful Malchior was back, just as she'd wanted. She wasn't sure how she'd done that; probably she hadn't. More than likely he'd just picked up on her body language and could tell. Her own mother didn't know her as well as he did. He put his hands on her waist and gently but firmly pushed her the rest of the way to the wall. Then he bent down and growled in her ear. "I have a problem with the way that Damien boy looks at you when he thinks no one is watching."

"He's just a friend." she told him calmly despite the happy blush that had returned. "As is Lady Eisen, I'm sure." she added, though she wasn't sure why she had.

Malchior chuckled. "You're not honestly worried about Rorek, are you?"

No, she wasn't, really. At least, she didn't think she was. Was she? No, no definitely not. "Just as long as he doesn't make a habit of going off with other girls, that's all." she answered.

Malchior kissed her briefly. "You have nothing to worry about." he murmured.

"Neither do you." she said softly against his returning lips.

This time his kiss lingered a little longer before he pulled back just enough to say, "Are you sure?" Another kiss. "We've screwed up quite a bit."

"You make up for it." she said, unable to stop the smile. 'Screwed up' in a Brittish accent…he did this on purpose, she knew it.

"Good to know."

Her arms slipped around his neck almost of their own accord. He had one hand braced against the wall next to her and the other in her hair. He had her pressed so close against the wall, against him, that she had a great lack of maneuverability. There was very little of her that he wasn't pressing against and she couldn't help but wish that he didn't have his armor on so she could feel the muscles beneath. He was all but smothering her and yet he was kissing her so lovingly, so gently, and with such affection in the way he stroked her hair; her cheek; the back of her head; the knap of her neck. It was almost overwhelming. Her head felt light and foggy, like she'd just drunk way too much Azarathian mint tea. Was she ever going to get used to this?

She melted into him, feeling warm and content and quite happy to stay like this forever. After an unknowable length of time he left her lips and began to wander to the corner of her mouth, the edge of her jaw, and, with a cleverly subtle maneuver of his fingers, down to a neck that had just been divested of its covering. She gasped, a thrill going up her spine, her nails raking across the shoulders of his armor. "M-Malchior!" she gasped out, squirming under him.

It wasn't as though her neck was any more of a weak spot than anyone else's, it was just that the skin there was very sensitive. NOT ticklish. She was NOT ticklish. But he was trailing his lips across the skin and his hot breath ghosting over just a small area; it felt as though the sensations were engulfing her entire body. She felt it at the top of her scalp, her fingertips, and all the way down to her toes. It was all she could do not to moan out loud. It felt so intense but so very _good_.

Her closed eyes fluttered slightly and she noticed there was a bit more light in her room than there should be. When she opened her eyes fully she saw the door was no where _near_ as closed as it ought to be and Nightwing was standing there with the air of someone who was about to march in and start shouting. She gave him a look that told him to go jump in a snake pit and also passed on the message that a snake pit would be an effing picnic compared to what he'd have to deal with if he interrupted.

He had been three paces into her room before he caught her expression and, very wisely, turned right back around. The door closed silently behind him.

Malchior paused, sensing the change of her mood, and drew back, frowning at her. "Is something wrong?" he asked breathily.

"No, it's nothing." she answered, pulling him back down to her with his scarf.

"Mmm, if you say so." he purred, only too willing to obey her silent command. He covered her mouth with his, his lips hot and demanding.

It was quite some time before they parted.

(O)

It was later. Lunch time, to be exact. The Titans thought about going out for pizza but they were all a little on edge and just _waiting_ for the alarms to go off. They ate, mostly without really tasting their food (which was just as well since Starfire had been the cook), waiting and alert, as though whatever was going to happen would happen any minute.

It didn't, and when the sirens _did_ go off it wasn't the Church of Blood. Still, a bunch of giant moths commanded by Kitten, who had altered the focus of her fangirling somewhat, wasn't exactly a welcome sight. But at least she wasn't using Blood Magic.

"I'll call them off if Black Knight goes on a date with me!" was her only demand.

"…Sorry, I can't think of a non-cliché way to react to that." Cyborg said.

"What happened to the 'Robby-poo'?" Beast Boy wondered.

"What happened to Fang?" Starfire asked.

"What happened to Malchior?" Lady Eisen questioned.

They all looked up and saw that Malchior had decided to fly up and take matters into his own hands. Raven groaned inwardly and put a hand over her eyes. But she had to watch, didn't she? If only to make sure Kitten's suicidal demand didn't come to fruition.

"One," he began, a finger in Kitten's face. "The Black and White Knights come as a pair. You cannot prefer one above the other, it doesn't work like that. Two," he held up a second finger, "We do not respond well to being _threatened_, and certainly not with something quite so pathetic. Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to break this thing's skull? Actually it would be easier to break yours. And that brings me to my third point," He grabbed her by the back of the head, his hand holding her hair so tightly she let out a cry of pain and tried to hit him with her whip. It didn't work. He enveloped it in black spellfire and sent it flying. "I don't like you, I don't like your hair color, I don't like your face, I don't like the whiny screechy tone of your voice, and I certainly don't like your attitude you spoiled little brat. I'd rip your throat out right here and now if I thought I could get away with it. Ironically enough, however, the fact that I'm quite sure Raven – whom I _do_ like and have quite a lot of affection for – would be very cross with me should I do it anyway is the only thing keeping you alive right now. Is that understood?"

"W-w-what does she have that I don't?-!" Kitten, who was apparently a world class non-listener and didn't seem to realize that Malchior was dead serious, demanded.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid this is going to take longer than one day." Malchior sighed.

"He's quite the smooth talker, isn't he?" Lady Eisen snickered at Raven's shoulder.

He turned Kitten around to face a very stunned Killer Moth. "You can either surrender now or I can toss her off this giant moth, and oh my, isn't that a long way down? Just how fast and agile are these beasts, hmm?" he asked.

"You can't fool me! You wouldn't dare."

Malchior shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Raven, who knew Malchior a lot better than Killer Moth, was already prepared and caught Kitten in a bowl-shaped spellfire disk before she fell too far but not before the full realization of Malchior's action hit her.

"He, he just, he just tried to kill me!" she gabbled.

"We are going to stop bringing you along if you can't learn to stop _acting_ like a villain!" Raven exclaimed.

Malchior shrugged. "I knew someone would catch her." he said. "**Fus Ro DAH**!" The sudden and certainly unexpected force of his shout blasted about half the giant moth army out of place. They went tumbling end over end and falling, smashing into buildings and onto the street. But the people of Jump City were used to this sort of thing and anyone that _could_ have been hurt had already cleared out of the area half an hour ago.

"Titans, go!" Nightwing shouted.

After that it was pretty much a one-sided battle. Though, to make it more interesting, Beast Boy decided to turn into a tye-dyed tyrannosaurus rex – an image that was on the internet two minutes after the battle's conclusion.

"You know, I'm starting to think we should split up into two teams and alternate between alarms. There are too many of us right now and it's getting too easy. It seems like a waste of energy for _all_ of us to respond to every alarm." Nightwing said.

"You're going to split us up? Great. So which team gets which dragon?" Lady Eisen asked.

They all looked at her.

"Um…dragon? There are _dragons_ here?" Flash asked, looking around. For some reason his eyes went straight to Damien, who held up his hands and shook his head.

"Not me." he insisted.

"Uh, whoops, was that a secret?" Eisen asked with a nervous grin.

"Not exactly, though we _were_ trying to keep that quiet. How did you find out?" Nightwing asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For one thing, the whole silfron thing only happens to dragons. Well, alright, it _can_ happen to humans and other beings too but not naturally and not anymore. The magic for it doesn't work right in this day and age." she answered.

"Uh…translation? What's 'the whole silfron thing'?" Jinx asked.

"Draconic twins." Rorek answered with a sigh. "It is what happens when two dragons hatch from one egg. _Us_, in other words."

"Wow, bet that was crowded. Hang on, you two are _dragons_?-!" Kid Flash exclaimed. "Is that why you wear the scarves? To hide the scales or something?"

"No." Malchior answered. "Our human forms do not have scales. We wear the scarves to hide the evidence of our obligatorily tragic past. Well, he does. For me it's just a style thing. I could care less." he said, pulling his scarf down to prove his point. But he brought it right back up when Jinx pulled out her communicator. "Oh no you don't."

"Oh come on, do you have any idea how much I could get for a picture of one of you without your scarf on?"

"I'm pretty sure we should be charging royalties for that." Malchior stated. "Are you taking pictures anyway?" he demanded.

"No, I'm using the video option now." she answered.

"Oh, well in that case," Malchior made a gesture with his hand.

Raven sighed. "Malchior, please stop flipping off the internet. It's rude."

Jinx laughed. "Don't worry, Raven. That's what pixilation is for. Besides, you'd be amazed at what you can get away with on the internet." She then turned the camera onto Rorek, who raised an eyebrow. "Your turn."

"For what?"

"The fans would like to know what your voices sound like." she answered. "Say something."

"Something."

"Oh you're funny."

Rorek shrugged.

"Tell us about yourself." Jinx prompted.

"You already know about me." Rorek pointed out.

"I mean: Tell the internet."

"Why would I wish to tell the internet anything? The internet is not a living person, as I understand it."

"Tell the people who _read_ the internet, then!"

"Why? Living people they may be, they are strangers to me."

"Is he doing that on purpose?" Raven whispered to Malchior.

"Yes. Shocking isn't it?" Malchior chuckled.

"But they'd like to know more about you!" Jinx argued.

"So would our enemies, I am sure." Rorek turned to Nightwing, "Perhaps it would be prudent to return to the tower, now?"

Nightwing, who was trying not to laugh too hard, nodded. "Yeah, let's get going."

"Awwww, but Cyborg won't let me take any pictures or videos in the tower."

"Smashing. Let's go." Malchior said.

Well, at least one good thing had come of the interruption; the atmosphere in the tower was no longer quite as tense.

Once they got back Nightwing decided to organize them into teams. This posed a bit of a problem since the first order of business was to determine who would be the second team's leader and Nightwing's first choice was…reluctant.

"I don't want to be a leader." Raven stated flatly.

"I'd really prefer to have Cyborg on my team, Raven. Besides, what makes you think you can't do it?"

"I never said I _couldn't_. I said I didn't _want_ to." she answered. "Can't you think of anyone else?"

Nightwing sighed and turned to Rorek. "If I made you one of the leaders, will Malchior have an issue with it?" he asked.

"I think that is a moot point considering I highly doubt my own suitability." Rorek answered. "My Friend, I am still unfamiliar with much of the aspects of this time. There is much I do not know which a leader _should_ know in order to make informed decisions."

"Why not make me the other leader? I'll do it!" Beast Boy volunteered.

"Jinx is pretty bossy, why not make her the second leader?" Kid Flash asked.

"Watch it, you." she snapped.

Nightwing gave Raven a pleading look. "It's only temporary." he reasoned.

"Do you have to have Cyborg on your team in that case?" she asked.

"Please Raven?" he all but begged.

She deflated, sighing. "Alright, but I am _not_ going to be the one deciding which of them goes on my team and which goes on yours." she stated, pointing to the twins.

"Why do they need to go on separate teams anyway?" Beast Boy asked.

"Dude, you play video games _how_ often?" Eisen demanded. "You always need at least one mage, one tank, and one rogue in a party. We have four mages and three mages in one team would be too unbalanced. Especially if they were all the most powerful mages – no offence, Jinx."

"None taken."

"Besides, Malchior and Rorek have a strong telepathic link. They can keep up a steady communication between our teams without the need to pull out communicators. In a tight pinch that could be an invaluable advantage." Nightwing added. "And I think it's pretty obvious which will be on whose team. Sorry, Rorek, but I have my doubts about how willing Malchior would be to follow my orders without you or Raven around."

"I understand. Though I do not have to be happy about it." Rorek said, glaring at his twin.

"It's only temporary." Malchior said with NO shame WHATsoever. He even sounded smug and the arm he snaked around Raven's waist wasn't helping.

"Be nice." she admonished.

"Yes M'Lady." Malchior said, earning a rather sharp look from his brother.

"That means that you're on my team, Jinx." Nightwing came in swiftly.

"Question!" she piped up.

"What's that?"

"So, Raven is officially an item with those two, right?" she asked. "I mean, both of them? Malchior told Kitten they were a pair so I'm going to assume it's both of them what with that and the silfron thing."

"How is that relevant?" Rorek asked.

"Yes." Malchior answered.

"While we're on the subject, I think we need to lay down some ground rules." Nightwing said with a very pointed look at Malchior. "We should not be in each other's rooms, for one thing."

"Dangit! Oh well, I guess we'll just have make out here in front of everyone!" Jinx declared, grabbing Kid Flash.

"No, wait! I meant—"

"Could have done with that rule back when he was still in the book." Rorek muttered, glaring at his brother.

"Will you two get a room?-!" Cyborg demanded.

"Can't! Nightwing says no more rooms." Jinx answered.

"Maybe I didn't think this one through…"

"Duuuuude! Do something!" Beast Boy begged. "She's putting her tongue in his mouth!"

"Alright! Alright! Forget I said anything!" Nightwing huffed. "Anyway, Lady Eisen, you're on Raven's team."

"Sweet."

"Starfire and Kid Flash on my team, Damien and Beast Man on Raven's." Nightwing finished.

"Not a good idea, Nightwing." Raven put forward. "Especially if it's your team that finds itself facing any Blood Magic. Either Eisen or Damien needs to switch with someone on your side."

"I'll switch." Damien offered. _'I would prefer to be on Rorek's team.'_ was what he _didn't_ say aloud.

"Well, Starfire or Flash, it'll have to be one of you." Nightwing said.

Starfire looked very reluctant. Jinx wasn't too happy either. She wined and clutched at Kid Flash's arm. Raven noticed the twitch on Cyborg's face and saw the spill words flying past in big capital letters. She was surprised, and a little impressed. It had to have taken a lot of self-control not to start shouting them out. She was also shocked by the realization that Cyborg had a problem with Jinx and Flash's display. He'd been over his crush on Jinx for a long time now. In fact, Raven was almost sure he had a thing for Bumble Bee. Well, _almost_ sure…

And then she remembered something else Ru had told her. Cyborg was reacting to whatever it was that was pumping magic back into the world. He probably only had a very small problem with this, but since he didn't know what he _should_ be angry about then he was going to get angry about little things that wouldn't ordinarily bother him.

Raven glanced around. Ru and Silkie were on the counter being cute, which was part of their job description as superhero pets, but Ru caught her eye and Raven read the spill words, _'Where are you hiding the carrots?'_

Well that was a lot of help.

"I have an idea." Eisen began. "I'm thinking both Damien and I should switch with Flash and Jinx. On the one hand that means that the Blood Magic defense is tilted a bit, but it will even us out and I'll tell you why. You have a dragon knight on each team and that's good. _But_, you have the girl who can kick their butts on this team." she explained.

"I don't know how to fight Blood Magic, though." Raven argued.

"_Really_? Coulda fooled me what with the way you took on Sister Fear like that back at the concert. And the way you completely owned the lesser glang. _And_ the way you managed to get out of Sister Fear's Nightmare curse. Yeah, I'm thinking you've got a good handle on it."

"But I haven't been trained." Raven protested.

"No one gets trained to face Blood Magic, Love." Malchior told her, his other arm coming around to encircle her fully into his arms so her back was pressed up against his breastplate. "You face it and you survive it. Nothing short of actual experience can possibly prepare you for it. You are as trained as you can be."

"But facing something like Mother Mayhem?" Raven asked.

"You will not be facing Mother Mayhem, Raven. You leave her to me." Rorek said.

"Why you?" Damien asked.

"Because they've faced this before." Nightwing answered. "That's right, you and Lady Eisen weren't around when all this got explained." he said. "Do you two mind if I tell them?"

Rorek coughed. "Lady Eisen…already knows." he admitted. "Point of fact, she knows more about us than you do. Her mother was…a Fury. I will not go into detail about what they were, all you really need to know is that they are powerful and very long-lived. We, Malchior and I, knew her mother back when we were fighting Blood Magic that first time. I imagine she has heard plenty of stories."

Lady Eisen grinned. "Lots of them." she winked at Raven. "We should have a sleepover sometime."

"Errrr..." Rorek began.

"I object to that idea!" Malchior said.

"Whoa…so, ah, how old are you?" Nightwing asked.

"Now you should know better than to ask a lady her age, Nightwing." Eisen said primly, but she was grinning so that rather spoiled the effect.

"Right, right, sorry." Nightwing said, rolling his eyes.

Nice of the Titans to take all of this in stride. Raven was mildly aware that 'normal' people would probably be freaking out right about now but this was all kinda typical for them. What a weird world.

"I'm still in the dark, though." Damien stated, looking a bit irritated.

"Right, well," Nightwing explained. Damien listened. His eyes went wide.

"Oh..." was all he had to say. But there were spill words. _'I can't compete with that, can I?'_

That made Raven very uncomfortable. He hadn't actually been thinking…no, their marriage had been arraigned. They didn't even know one another until recently. He couldn't have possibly…he'd been _relieved_ when their marriage had been called off.

That was nine years ago. They've both changed a lot in that time.

Malchior's arms were holding her from behind in what she now realized was a possessive stance. Did Malchior honestly see Damien as a threat? Well of course, what was she thinking? _Everyone_ was a threat. He didn't need to worry, though. Neither of them did. Anyone else who tried to wrap their arms around her so intimately like this would get a resounding smack across the face. Or worse.

"Alright, now that that's sorted, Damien and Lady Eisen are on my team. Raven you get Jinx and Flash." Nightwing said. "We'll take turns unless it looks like a big mission. Even then we are still going to act as two teams to avoid confusion. That means we are going to start training as teams. I know it's only temporary but this could still be useful for the future. Especially if this sort of thing happens again. Any questions? Yes Jinx?"

"Are you and Starfire an official couple now too?"

Nightwing smacked himself in the face. "Yes." he sighed.

(8)

A/N: Poor Damien. Oh well. He's an OC so probably no one cares too much. :P

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Go snuggle with Rorek! You're distracting our sniper!

Next Sunday's update is when things are going to start heating up (in an Action/Adventure way, that is). Look forward to it! :D


	44. Gift

A/N: Warning: this chapter is a bit sappy. Also, Raven keeps repeating her own thoughts. I've tried telling her to stop, we get it already, but she seems to think I'm the Annoying emoticlone or something.

Cat: The neon green cloak you're wearing probably doesn't help.

But it keeps out the rain!

(8)

_In human form the High Priest's eyes were deep violet, his hair was black and extended to a length that met his knees, and his skin was so fair it nearly matched the snow that blanketed his castle. He looked very young for one who had to be very old and he claimed that there were dragons older even than he. Dragons are not immortal, he told me, but they are very long-lived and sometimes they simply stop aging. Yet he was of an enormous size that no other dragon had reached. This, he said, was proof of Iiam Bormah's blessing. He was the High Priest, the King, the enforcer of their Law. It was not a position of prestige in the way that humans might perceive it. Rather it was a position of servitude, and in his service it was necessary that he have powers which would allow him to carry out the duties and responsibilities laid upon his shoulders. There were rewards, however. Many of them, though he did not go into detail._

_Yet it seemed such a lonely life. I asked him if Iiam Bormah had forbad him from taking a mate but he laughed at this, saying that Iiam Bormah would forbid no such thing. A man is incomplete without a woman. A woman is incomplete without a man. One man, one woman. This was the design of the Creator. Though there are exceptions._

_I asked if he was such an exception and he said no, he had been promised a mate by Iiam Bormah Himself and he would wait for her until the end of time if he must. He clarified his meaning by telling me of the unfortunate anomaly that took place when two dragons hatched from the same egg._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 44 – Gift**

It didn't all happen at once. The collapse was slow, sporadic, and completely unpredictable. A house here, a house there, an apartment building, a shopping center, various stores; and it kept going despite the best efforts of everyone to figure out what was going on and how to stop it.

What stuck in Raven's mind the most, though, was the lamp post that had once stood outside Abby's bookstore. It had actually coiled around itself, twisting up and nearly knotting as the paint flaked away from the stress and strain to reveal brown-red rust underneath. It had _looked_ like something tortured. As though, if metal could speak, it would have been screaming.

There was nothing the Titans could actually _do_ about the collapse itself. Even Raven, Malchior, and Rorek could do no more than hold the buildings up while they were evacuated. And so they didn't try. What was important were the people trapped under buildings and getting them to safety or – an increasingly popular option – the hospital.

Raven's power could sweep over a very large area and she was able to detect any living bodies as well as remove quite a lot of rubble so that the Titans, the police, and a great deal of concerned citizens could move in and get the people out. Malchior and Rorek were doing what they could with spellfire and actual spells to help in other parts of Old Jump, as were the rest of the Titans. Eventually they stretched themselves out so that the teams were no longer teams but small groups of mostly two; Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Starfire, Nightwing and Damien, Lady Eisen and Flash, Raven and Jinx. Only Malchior and Rorek were split up, but their telepathic link meant that if something happened to one then the other would know. Besides, there was precious little that'd be able to happen to _them_. If anything they'd be the ones flying to the rescue.

Jinx was a decent sorceress in her own right, but her spellfire wasn't very useful in this instance. By nature her powers were destructive and disorienting – something that was much more useful to a villain rather than a hero. No one was going to say this out loud, of course, but…well, they didn't need to.

On the other hand, Jinx was, perhaps, one of the few magic-users whose powers were naturally effective against advanced technology. Still, at the moment what she was doing to help didn't require her powers. They did require her ability to bully people into doing what she wanted. And, somehow, being shouted at to stay calm, keep in line, and don't be such a dang idiot was at least giving people something to cling to in their panic. In times of chaos a clear (if loud), calm, authoritative voice had all the power. Even the police were allowing themselves to be organized by such a self-assured voice. Raven was impressed, and actually a little envious.

By the time it seemed to be over, at least the collapsing part, not _all_ of Old Jump was in ruins. Just most of it. The entire block and some of the surrounding buildings of the area that Margaret and Eric lived in were still standing. Abby's bookstore hadn't collapsed, not the store itself anyway. Raven wondered if this was because Eric had been in the store at the time or, and this was a strange thought, if the lamp post had somehow taken all the damage upon itself in order to save the building. There was also the Wax Ribbon. That had stayed standing. And there were a few very old houses made of solid brick that held strong.

As Raven allowed what she hoped to be the last of the rubble to fall gently back to the ground she looked down and noticed a few dozen people were grouped around Jinx and an older man. The man was holding a book open and pointing to something. When color returned to the world Jinx looked up and signaled for Raven to land. A space was provided for her to do so.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Mr. Hawkins here thinks we might be able to restore the buildings with a spell he found in this book." Jinx answered. "I don't really understand it, though. What do you think?" she asked.

The old man turned the book around and handed it over to Raven. It was written in Sanskrit and the picture on the right page was of a simple circle with an inner border of characters that appeared very much like dancing people. They looked familiar, but if they _were_ characters and not supposed to represent people then she didn't know what they said. It was likely they were people, though, since the passage on the left page was describing a means of generating power by way of a circle. She frowned.

"I don't think this is a good idea." she said.

"It is very detailed." the older man told her. "I have made an extensive study of it and I can assure you that there is no danger. I believe the power gathered is drawn from the natural forces of sunlight and gravity. We will need a great deal of preparation. For one, the surrounding circle must be absolutely perfect and that is not easy to do."

"Is the circle drawn with a special ink or crystal sand?" she asked.

"Oh no, any sort of marker will do. Salt, chalk, even a gouge in the dirt." he answered.

Raven snapped the book shut. "No." she said flatly. "We're not doing this."

"_What_? But Raven, look around! We have to do something! Do you think the city has enough money to rebuild all of this? No way! It'll just sit here for years with a few houses going back up here and there. And in the meantime what are the people whose houses and lives were completely destroyed supposed to do?" Jinx demanded.

"Jinx, this is deep magic. And deep magic is incredibly dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. It can…_attract_ things." Raven turned to the older man. "But this is only to gather the power, correct? Could the spell that rebuilds the city work with another source?" she asked.

His expression was grave. "It would require a lot more power than we could spare, even if all the magic-users in Jump could be rounded up and brought here." he told her.

"But if we could gather the power another way, would it work?" she asked.

"In theory, yes." he answered. "Here, I will show you the spell itself." he said, holding his hand out for the book. She gave it to him and he opened it back up, licking his fingers to turn the pages. When he found it he handed the book back to her. She spent some time reading it. It wasn't exactly new stuff, she knew most of the things the passage was describing. But it _was_ arraigning them in a way she hadn't thought of before. Hmm…yes, it looked like any power source _could_ work, provided you could get a lot of power in a short amount of time.

Raven glanced around and found Eric hovering nearby with Margaret sitting on his shoulders. Then when she looked up she saw Malchior and Rorek were both flying towards her.

"In fact," she said, "I think we have quite a lot more power here than you realize."

(O)

There had been deaths. A lot of them. Most of them from the very beginning of the collapse and many of them discovered only _after_ the restoration as crushed bodies in houses and buildings. The total was still being tallied. But while Jump City was sufficiently horrified by the mysterious destruction of Old Jump, all the attention and focus of the media and the remaining population was on the restoration itself.

It wasn't complete. There were whole blocks that now had nothing on them but dirt. But, for the most part, Old Jump was back. And who was getting the credit for it?

Magic-users, at least the kind who wore jeans, sweaters, and no makeup (with exceptions, of course. CoughEriccough), were mostly a shy, reclusive lot that didn't want any kind of recognition from the mass media in case their ability to blend in with the crowd was completely stolen from them. And so, once the restoration had been complete, they had done a bit of very tired cheering, hugged one another, and then cleared out before the media had time to get to the scene. This meant that any faces seen would only be in the minds of the various onlookers who had gathered to gape open-mouthed as the spell was being performed. And since memory was a faulty thing the only ones anyone would remember with any clarity were the Titans. Jinx had decided to clear out in case the publicity flooded her store with undesirables. So that left Raven, Malchior, and Rorek. And since neither Malchior nor Rorek were at all willing to talk to the cameras that left Raven to face the increasing number of microphones and cameras that were being pointed at her. Eventually, after suffering questions being piled on top of questions before she was able to actually _answer_ anything, she demanded silence in a sharp voice, got it, explained in a calm, flat tone what they had done, and then the three of them flew away.

And so, despite the fact that it had not even been her idea, despite the fact that Malchior and Rorek had been the ones directing the spell in the first place, and despite the fact that there had been enough power coming out of Margaret and Eric and, let's be fair, everyone else that she didn't even need to tap into her deeper reserves, it was _her_ face that was primarily associated with the restoration. And, the media being what it is, the story was being twisted up and misconstrued in ways to make it seem as though she'd done it all herself ('with the assistance of concerned magic-using citizens' being in such fine print that few people were likely to notice).

Malchior and Rorek's spill words were _not helping_.

'_Should we tell her she could have supplied all the necessary power herself?'_

'_No, let her sulk. I'm sure she knows. She just doesn't like the attention.'_

The temptation to round on Malchior and snap, 'I am _not_ sulking!' just to see the look on his face was so great that she almost succumbed. She managed to resist, though.

The other Titans weren't helping much either.

"It really was an amazing feat of magic, Raven." Damien, who would at least know just how monumental such a thing was, said to her.

"But it wasn't _mine_. All I did was supply a portion of the power. Mr. Hawkins had the spell itself and Malchior and Rorek were the ones who used it. It doesn't feel right that I'm the one getting all the credit. That's what's bothering me." she said.

Malchior put an arm around her waist and pulled his scarf down so he could kiss her cheek. "But the people who _do_ deserve the credit really don't want it and would prefer you, who is already a known sorceress, to take it." he told her. "It'll blow over, Love. Humans are only capable of so much gratitude and hero-worship before they get bored and move on."

It had been a week since their trip to Gotham. Jinx was going back to her store now and then to make sure everything was still up and running but only on the condition that Flash went with her (like she had to twist his arm). They got more rooms cleared for Kid Flash and Damien to use but if they had any more people move in then either someone else was going to have to share (no one really wanted to, though), Raven was going to have to make some parts of the tower bigger (which was a bad idea), or they were going to have to sequester Terra's room and Beast Boy wasn't the only one who had an issue with this notion. It'd been nearly two years since he'd seen her at that school and since then there had been no sighting of her. After finding her monument gone and having no real way to track her the end verdict was that she'd return when she chose to return…if ever.

There were the usual missions and the familiar faces and The Great Can't popped up now and again to be a nuisance, but otherwise nothing they heard or had found in any news reports indicated that any Blood Magic was being used or even that Mother Mayhem was still in the area (though Raven's brooding thoughts kept trying to indicate there was some chance that Mother Mayhem's advanced Blood Magic might have had something to do with the collapse. Iron in its many alloys was a very popular building material, after all). But they weren't going to let their guard down just yet. Training time had been doubled for all of them. Both as teams and separately. Malchior and Rorek were continuing her magical training, but they had to do this in an empty dimension that Malchior had gotten from his mother.

"Well, at least she gave you something nice, right?" Raven offered uncomfortably. She got a shrug in response and dropped the subject. It wasn't nearly as airy or as, well, _comfortable_ as the Arcane Sanctuary. In fact, Raven didn't really like being in there at all, but beggars couldn't be choosers and it wasn't as though she had anything better. Sub-space pockets were _not_ people-friendly and you definitely couldn't use them to practice magic in.

Raven had started training with a bow staff for her physical exercise. She got Nightwing to show her a few moves and she practiced them repeatedly with the intention of working up a sweat the way she had done with all the martial art moves he'd taught her. But she didn't use _just_ the bow staff for exercise. Twice now she and Damien had had a friendly spar. They weren't like that first time, though. In order to find the state in which her power became physical energy, Raven had to call upon The Other and it was a bit scary just how sharp and focused The Other's thoughts could become. If she wasn't careful she could lose sight of the true purpose of the fight, EG: Exercise.

When Damien questioned her about all that she decided to reveal the existence of The Other. It had surprised him. And then he surprised her. He knew what The Other was.

"_We_ call it 'The Beast'." he told her. "And when I say 'we', I mean the monks. It is not particularly uncommon, but I am a bit surprised it happened to you. Your primary power is magic, after all. I am not entirely sure how it happens, but perhaps it is the result of extensive meditation. It _was_ explained to me but I only vaguely understood. It has something to do with separating emotions. Supposedly once you have separated your emotions enough, pulling them to the side, redirecting the energy itself to be used for power rather than feeling, then it is something like stripping down an onion; stripping down what makes you human. And then at the core – what is left over – is The Beast." he mused. "It is not really something we like to talk about so I only got the explanation once and I may have gotten it wrong at that."

"So what _is_ it?" Raven asked. "Every time I think I know my impression changes."

"It is The Beast." he answered simply. "It is the part of you that is your body; what you might be if humans had no cognitive capabilities and relied on their teeth and nails. It is animal, in other words."

"But it can think." she argued.

"No. _You_ can think. The Beast only thinks through you. And it is what you think it is until it needs to be something else. It is not evil…but it _is_ the part of you that is highly susceptible to becoming evil. It is dangerous, but at the same time it can be useful. Have you ever heard of Berserkers?" he asked.

"Those warriors who go completely mad on the battlefield and keep on fighting as though they can't feel any pain?" she asked.

"That's one example of what could happen if you let The Beast have full control."

"But I've _become_ The Beast before. Twice now. I was still able to think…sort of. I was just very…_different_."

"_Really_?" Damien looked taken aback. "You mean you can steer it? I thought only Grandmasters could do that."

"I _have_ been meditating almost all my life." she pointed out.

"True…" He cocked his head at her. "Can you remember what happens when you go berserk?"

"Yes. Well, mostly. Only the things I think are worth my attention at the time get remembered." she answered.

"What is it like?" he asked.

"Red…and sharp. It's not _bad_, but it's not exactly pleasant either." She paused. "To be honest, I thought it was…the demon." she admitted.

"Ah…well, the whole 'demon' thing _might_ have something to do with your ability to steer it, but I wouldn't know. You may want to speak to a Grandmaster about that."

Well, if Damien had any serious issue with Raven being with the twins then either he was hiding it _extremely_ well (and she didn't think his ability to meditate himself into a state of poker-faced emotion that could fool _her_ senses), or he'd gotten over it. Malchior made no more effort to hide his affection anymore. Fortunately he did, at least, seem to understand that there were things you simply did not do or say while there were witnesses if you wanted to continue being allowed to do or say them at all. She was still a bit shy about his kissing her cheek or forehead in front of the others, but she was getting over that. She _did_ draw the line at lip-on-lip contact. Even a gentle peck was _not allowed_ in public. Beast Boy was making enough kissing noises as it was (though these days Cyborg was likely to get fed up sooner than Raven).

Rorek was still more reserved than Malchior, but he had his own ways of showing his affection in public. He did not kiss her cheek or face or wrap his arms around her or make various remarks like Malchior did (or, at least, not as often. He allowed himself a peck on the forehead every now and then but that was about it). Instead he did what he always did: Made her tea in the mornings, cooked her favorite foods, and called her 'My Lady'. But it seemed to her that the tea was brewed with more care, he was also making the deserts she liked, and 'My Lady' had somehow metamorphosed into his version of Malchior's 'Love'. It wasn't just 'My Lady' anymore, it was '_My_ Lady'. What was more, he had stopped calling Jinx or any other sorceress they came across 'My Lady' or 'M'Lady'. They were 'miss' or 'madam' now.

That was in public, though. Behind closed doors it felt like he was even less reserved than Malchior, as though he saved up all his desire for those moments, however brief, when they could be alone.

She did enjoy being able to sit or stand close to the twins without worrying about arousing suspicion. Suspicion had been aroused and confirmed (a long time ago in some cases) so that was over and done with. She could even snuggle up against one or the other while reading in the living room and not feel awkward or weird. Heck, compared to Jinx and Kid Flash's public displays of affection she could get away with just about anything considering she had that no lip-locking rule (which they did not share – though at least they had _some_ reservations). At the moment she wasn't in anyone's lap, but she _was_ doing a bit of snuggling while Malchior, Cyborg, Nightwing, and Beast Boy were playing a campaign video game. This was having an adverse effect on the gameplay, though.

"Raveeeeen! Go snuggle with Rorek! You're distracting our sniper!" Beast Boy wined.

"Rorek's in their bedroom. Besides, I don't hear Malchior complaining." Raven responded innocently.

Lady Eisen started snickering.

"Malchior! You so totally had that shot, man! Either push her off or go get a room!"

"Cyborg, did you just seriously tell me to choose between a beautiful woman and a video game?"

"Dangit…why can't you do that while he's kicking all our butts in versus mode, Rae?-!"

Malchior chuckled. "If you want me to put the controller down, Love, you need only say so." he said, taking a moment to turn his head and kiss the top of hers.

"No I'm good. Keep playing, really." she responded.

Typically snuggling so close with her head leaning against his shoulder like this shouldn't be comfortable. But, for whatever reason, Malchior had started walking around the tower with his armor off. Since he could get it right back on the instant the siren went off, there wasn't an issue with this. He still wore his scarf, but at the moment it was down around his neck and making a pretty nice cushion for her. He usually pulled it down while playing video games with the others, usually so he could give them the full force of his smug grin during versus mode where he did, indeed, tend to win a lot.

"Malchior! Dude! Can't you focus?-!" Nightwing demanded.

"I apologize. I keep thinking of something else I'd quite like to be doing for some odd reason."

"TMI, Man. That's my surrogate sister you're thinking about!" Cyborg exclaimed

"My goodness. _Someone's_ mind likes to jump into the gutter doesn't it? Oh look, I seem to have died." Malchior said, sounding oh-so-upset. "Oops." He tossed his controller onto the coffee table and then pulled Raven all the way into his lap. She found a comfortable spot in the crook of his arm and turned a page in her book.

"That was so your fault, Raven!" Beast Boy accused.

Raven snickered. "Hey Beast Man? Remember that time you interrupted me while I was meditating for something stupid?"

"Which time?"

She let the words hang in the air. Lady Eisen was laughing. Beast Boy put on a grumpy face but his eyes stayed focused on the screen.

"What's that you're reading, Love?" Malchior asked, his lips against her hair.

"Alice in Wonderland." she answered.

"Ah, the most popular book ever written on drugs. Though I sometimes wonder whether J. R. R. Tolkien was high when he decided to portray elves as being good and pure beings with such lovely personalities." he mused.

Raven chuckled. Malchior was right, though. Before Lord of the Rings, most of the older stories showed elves as being like another version of demons. In fact, in the German language the word 'albtraum', 'nightmare', was directly translated as 'elf dream'. There was also the term 'touched in the head' or just 'touched'. That had originally been '_elf_-touched'. Meaning people believed that you'd been touched by an elf when you went mad.

Humans have always had a pressing need to give a name and identity to the things that go bump in the night (and sometimes in the day). 'Elf' had been one such name. And the elves as they had once been known were not the same beings you thought of today thanks to Mr. Tolkien's popularized version of them. Likely they were among those beings who'd faded away into obscurity when humans began injecting iron into their bodies. They were historically known for hating iron, though Raven had always thought that this was because iron had meant development and new ideas that pushed the old world aside. In other words, she thought that it had all been a metaphor. A lot of her assumptions were being reevaluated lately.

Iron of the mind…she was having another of those almost-thoughts but she pushed it away in case it was coming from an undesirable source.

The siren blared suddenly. Malchior's arms tensed around her but they stayed put since it was Nightwing's team's turn. Raven reached up and put a hand on his cheek to calm him down. "I'm sure it's just another of our usual villains." she murmured softly as Nightwing and those in his crew filed out.

Then it was just Raven, Malchior, and Beast Boy in the living room. Beast Boy sighed. "Oh well. Want to play something else, Ma—what am I saying? Never mind." he said, seeing the way Malchior was now trying to get Raven's attention away from her book without actually asking for it.

"If you want me to put the book down, you've only got to say."

"No, I'm good. Keep reading, really."

"Ugh, I'm leaving." said Beast Boy.

"Jealous." Malchior teased.

"Of Raven? No way, Dude. She's all yours. Well, yours and Rorek's anyway…whatever, bye."

"Good." Malchior purred in her ear. He pushed her hair out of his way and his lips found the lobe. A shiver went down her spine but she tried to resist. The attempt wasn't working too well.

Raven closed her book when she realized she'd just read the same passage several times over and she banished it back to her room.

"Mmmm, finished already?" he asked, his hot breath against her ear and ghosting across her cheek, which was growing warm from the inside as well.

"For now." she answered, turning to catch his lips with hers. She was getting better at this, even if she still blushed a lot and every time either of them touched her she felt a little jolt or thrill inside. That would pass eventually. They were still in the puppy love stage where it was all new and exciting. It would fade, she knew that, but she could enjoy it while it lasted, right?

He leaned over sideways, pulling her with him so that they were both laying down along the couch. His arms were wrapped around her waist and her arms around his neck. She was a little leery about kissing like this in the living room but, well, about half the Titans were out now and the other half probably had their own thing going on so…

Besides, it'd been a while since she was able to snuggle with either of them in a lying down position and the living room couch seemed the most innocent place for it. She suddenly felt like taking a nap. She really wanted to. She never slept as well as when they had their arms around her like this. He wasn't really helping either. His kiss was gentle, long, and languid. She loved the taste of him, of them. There was a sweetness there, a taste of campfire or of crisp frost mixed with the scents of musk, pine, and vanilla. Right now it was making her drowsy. He seemed to sense this because he gently broke away, kissed her forehead, and then nestled her head in the crook of his neck where his scarf provided adequate cushion and his scent enveloped her world.

She closed her eyes, slipped easily into the dreamscape, and arrived already in the bed. She dozed off, dreaming peacefully in his embrace.

(O)

It was a book. It was big and thick, though not quite the size of Rorek's diary or grimoire. It looked somehow both old and new. Old but…refurbished, perhaps? The brass certainly looked new even though the leather binding felt and smelled old. All except for the strap that held it shut, fastened in place with brass. _That_ was new, though it had been meant to look older. The cover itself wasn't very decorative. Dark brown, very plane aside from the binding (which _was_ brass and _not_ gold). In all honesty, it was the kind of cover she tended to be drawn towards. Such simple covers seemed to somehow indicate to her that the contents were so interesting that the book itself didn't need anything exciting on its exterior.

The brass clasp snapped open when she touched it. She opened the book and stared at the front page. There was a single word. A Draconic word written with Draconic characters. "Zoorre", which meant 'Legends' or 'Stories' or even 'Poems', but the type of poems that passed from mouth to mouth by way of the ancient oral traditions. She turned the off-white page and found an index. All of the titles were in Draconic; all the numbers were in Draconic, even the page numbers. She flipped through several pages and found herself staring at a beautiful etching of a castle with what had to be hundreds of tiny draconic shapes flying about it. The image was made entirely out of black ink and she simply marveled at how the smallest line or dab could be used so expertly to simply _indicate_ things too small to be detailed and do just as good a job as if they'd taken a huge image and shrunk it down. She flipped some more pages and found a series of short lines written down the middle of the pages. A poem, here.

Raven looked up at Malchior and Rorek, both of whom were hovering with hopeful, anticipatory airs. "You…you made this for me?" she asked, feeling her breath catch in her throat. She was having a hard time breathing properly and her eyes were stinging with the emotions raging inside.

"It was Beast Man's idea, originally." Rorek admitted. "Some time before Slade kidnapped the children. He suggested that we might be able to return to your good graces with a gift. But you are not the sort of woman who is impressed by precious stones or metals. You do, however, enjoy the old tales."

"He thought you would like old dragon stories, so we've been working on this for quite a while." Malchior explained.

They had been individually absent lately. One or the other was always in their room and she hadn't thought too much about it because she didn't want to pry. Besides, it made being their girlfriend a lot easier when she was only facing one at a time.

This, though, this was…it was…

Raven was still so new to all of this. She had a basic understanding of the way it worked, but the emotional aspect was so foreign and strange that knowledge wasn't doing her very much good. Thus far the most she'd been able to do in the way of showing her affection was to accept _their_ affection with open arms and, once and a while, initiate something herself. Like the snuggling and the occasional kiss. Still, after that they usually took over and she was incredibly grateful for that. Showing affection simply did not come easily to her and certainly not as easily as it did for the twins.

She wanted to do more, she really did, but when she tried to let these feelings out they were so deep and palpable that they overwhelmed her. It was almost like a pain in her chest. Sometimes it felt like they were slowly becoming an almost physical part of her and it hurt to be too far from them for too long. She wanted to tell them this. But every time she tried she lost her nerve, feeling as though her words would sound silly and even a bit cliché. Was this love? She wasn't sure. How could she tell? There was so much talk in the world about love that sometimes she had wondered if it really existed. But she loved her mother, she loved her kids, she loved her friends, and she loved her home.

But this was different. All those other things might pass but this was a bond that, at the very end of it, had the apparent intention of settling into something permanent and immovable.

And they deserved to know that. They deserved to know how much they meant to her, how deeply she felt for them. They expressed themselves so freely and openly, somehow knowing exactly what to say and do and how to say and do it. And yet every time she tried to return these words she got so tongue-tied and it was much easier to just smile and kiss so she didn't have to speak. So much easier to express the slightest desire for their attention and let them take over the way they always did. They did so much for her, they were always there for her, always around, always watching out for her, protecting her in every way they could…

And yet, what did she do in return? What _could_ she do? What could she say? 'I love you'? It didn't seem to be enough, not nearly enough.

Ah. That would work. But did she dare say it? Ordinarily no, she wouldn't, so she'd better get it out before she had time to lose her nerve again.

She closed the book, letting the clasp snap back into place, and put it in her belt. Then she reached out for the pair of them. They answered her silent request and folded around her, pressing in so close that she was able to get her arms around both necks and hug them. "Thank you." she said softly. She pulled back and craned her neck a bit to kiss Rorek, then Malchior, then she pulled back and her gaze flickered from one to the other. She could feel her courage fading fast so she said the words as soon as she could. "Dii dovah, hi kos hahnu zu'u lahney wah su'um."

There was a joint gasp, expressions of shocked surprise, and then, quite suddenly, she was being smothered by the both of them. Rorek caught her lips up first and his kiss was so furious and passionate that she was sure her lips were going to be bruised. She closed her eyes and let them take over, trying not to regret her words or wonder if they were true. They shot back open again when she suddenly felt his tongue slip through her lips and start moving about, exploring her mouth and caressing her own tongue, which moved uncertainly in response. Not since that first kiss from The Other had tongues been involved and she honestly wasn't sure she could handle this. The sensation, the taste, the intimate intrusion…he filled her mouth with the taste of winter frost, her thoughts growing fuzzy and half-ended.

Then Malchior's lips were on her neck. She gasped into Rorek's mouth and moaned, shivering. She clutched them tightly, holding on to them as though they were a life raft in the storming sea of her raging emotions. Three years ago and she'd have destroyed the entire tower by now with the force of them. It was hot, cold, warm, cool, their hands, their lips, soft hair, sleek hair, her fingers, their skin, the taste of snow…

It was crowded with the both of them. It was her and two post-adolescent male bodies. But they worked as one; never getting in one another's way, never fighting for space or dominance over the other. She went from Rorek's mouth to Malchior's so seamlessly she almost wouldn't have noticed but for the brief moment of open air in her mouth, and then it was Malchior's hot tongue tasting of campfire and incense. It was also Rorek's turn to kiss and nibble at the other side of her neck, putting stars in her head.

She clung to them both, vaguely aware of the wall at her back because it was helping her stay upright even though her legs had given out long ago. There was a strange feeling and it was a bit uncomfortable. She knew that this was probably how it was supposed to work – having both silfron together like this – but it seemed a bit too much, too crowded. Perhaps this was how it was with silfron and she simply had to get used to it.

It was quite some time before they finally released her.

(O)

**Red skin, four yellow eyes, a cascade of white hair, a crown of two horns upon his head that appeared to be like trimmed antlers. He turned to her, and a horribly familiar voice rang out in the darkness.**

"**Be a good girl and help him out."**

**The image faded and another took its place. She saw an indistinct face, an indistinct shape that resembled a man. He was reaching for her but he could not pass a certain point. She could see no detail, but she **_**felt**_** the familiarity of him. It was the god who kept trying to contact her. The one who had invaded her dreamscape.**

"**N-no!" she gasped. "I won't help you!" she shouted.**

**The image of Trigon returned. "You are not the only one whom he could turn to for help." he told her. "You're just the only one he'll accept. You should feel honored. Now stop being obstinate."**

**He began to change. The red skin faded into brown tan, the eyes became red, the antlers grew out like the branches of a tree, the fangs disappeared and across his skin there were black and red markings that resembled more intricate versions of her own birthmarks. His loincloth turned into one made of deerskin and leather. There was brown fur on his legs.**

"**I'm not helping you! Any of you!" she shouted at him. He towered over her, his eyes narrowing down upon her with displeasure.**

"**Oh yes you will, Child. There is no other acceptable choice." he said.**

**He changed again, this time the horns disappeared, his skin became lighter, the markings turned into pale white scars, his hooves became feet and lost their fur, and his claws became nails.**

"**The prophecy that told of my birth and your return has been fulfilled and defeated. My fate is my own from here on out!" she exclaimed.**

"**How little you understand." Trigon mocked.**

**And again he changed. A strange head piece appeared that looked much like a cone with horns coming out of it and the cloth around his waist suddenly looked like it was made of scales. Snake scales? That was what tipped her off.**

"**This is just a dream." she realized. "Trigon isn't actually talking to me."**

**He grinned horribly. "Blood is the ultimate currency. A circle is just a tool."**

**Once more he changed. Four eyes became two, his hair turned black, his clothes were a simple loincloth of animal fur. He looked almost like an ordinary human but for his enormous size and the red glow of his eyes.**

"**If you want to stop them," he began, "go find your brother."**

**Raven took a deep breath, and screamed.**

It worked. She woke up, though still screaming. Screaming until she ran out of breath and then she gasped, took many deep breaths and clearing her mind until she was calm enough to think straight.

It really was just a dream that time. It didn't have the sharpness or invariable clarity of the others and it didn't even feel like a vision. Just a dream, born of her fears and anxieties. If she were meditating as often as she should then it wouldn't have happened.

Just a dream. She _knew_ it was a dream. If not from the snake-scale skirt than from the mildly cliché dialogue that Trigon had been spilling. She heard stuff like that and much worse a lot in her dreams (because she heard it in real life way more often than was good for anyone's state of mind). Sometimes her dream villains actually enunciated the 'muah' in their 'muahahahaha'. Those were bad nights, the worst being that one time when the dream villain had decided to _write out_ their maniacal laugh. The note had had five exclamation points at the end.

"_If you want to stop them, go find your brother."_

Brother? She didn't have a brother…did she? Well, it was _possible_. The Azarathian scholars theorized that Trigon was able to gain enough strength every two or three centuries to incarnate on Earth, though in a very weakened state and with only so much time for minor mischief that could be dealt with without too much trouble. Relatively speaking, of course. So it was possible that Arella wasn't the only woman he impregnated, just probably the only one he actually married first so the deep magics would give him the doorway he needed; that being Raven. That begged the question of why Arella had been special and why he hadn't been able to find the right host sooner. Was it possible that she had something similar to the Brother Blood mutation?

But if any of Raven's siblings were still alive then they'd have to be hundreds of years old. Or maybe not. What if Arella hadn't been the first woman he had a liaison with during this century's incarnation?

"_She says, 'It's your brother', and 'do you know where the tea is?'"_

Now where had she heard _that_ one before? Another dream?

No…no it _hadn't_ been another dream. It'd been from The Great Can't, though it turned out he had misheard this 'Tia' phantom and it was actually Raven's _teeth_ she was talking about. Well, she had her teeth now…

Did she have a brother?

(8)

A/N: I don't know about anyone else but I hear some crazy stuff in my dreams too. Also, has anyone else had stuff keep changing around on them? One time I had this dream where I was pushing this wire basket along and at one point it's, like, doll-sized, and then somehow at another point I'm rolling around inside trying not to fall through the ginormous holes. And then there were those dreams I had when the washing machine was about to explode and destroy the house and I had a certain amount of time to run away. I remember having those while I was very young. Apparently we had a loud washing machine. Oh and then there was this time I dreamed about a great big tree falling on our house and somehow the roof, instead of getting smashed in, simply flipped upside-down onto the pavement and my brother was inside. Don't know what he was doing in the roof but there you go. Oh, and there was that one with the house-sized LION at the zoo that, for some reason, did _not_ jump the fence to eat my brother and our friend, both of whom were shaking the mesh fence at it. Dreams are weird. Anyway!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Oh don't mind them. They're just my stalkers.

See y'all Sunday! Heheheheheheh.


	45. Bang

A/N: This chapter DID NOT want to be written. This is the problem chapter. This is the Writer's Block chapter. But I wrestled it to the ground and cut off its legs then attached new legs that worked much better. So this chapter has been written. This chapter has been overcome! This chapter has been shown who's boss! TAKE THAT WRITER'S BLOCK! YEAH!

(8)

_I returned to Hrunting's court to make inquiries of the dark lady whose ribbon I still carried only to find she had gone and left behind no knowledge of her whereabouts. I was saddened, but did not brood overlong. I was asked to stay but I gave my apologies to my king and returned to the High Priest._

_Many years passed during my life as the blade of the High Priest, whom I began to call my friend – though I could not bring myself to call him by name for, despite our closeness, there was respect still due to his position. In his castle I was given chambers like those I was granted in the various castles I visited during my life as a courtly mage. Often we spoke. More often one or both of us was away on missions that did not always involve the slaying of dragons. I became well-known for my deeds and abilities and thus many kings sent requests to King Hrunting, who passed them to the High Priest that I might grant assistance in some fashion. Dragons were not supposed to involve themselves in the affairs of humans so such a system was difficult to negotiate. I served the dragons' own king and answered these calls at his command, after all. Some calls I answered, some I did not, and others I was asked to attend and judge the situation for myself._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 45 – Bang**

"Are you sure about this?"

"You didn't have to come along, you know. It's not like I can't manage the streets of my own city on my own anymore."

"Yes, like we're going to let you out of our sight while there's a cult of Blood Magic practitioners after you. Absolutely not, Love."

"So when the Church of Blood is gone for good you'll let me run personal errands on my own again?"

"We'll think about it."

"Malchior…"

They landed in Margaret and Eric's neighborhood and walked up to the door to knock. Raven noticed the mailbox, which had once had the word 'male' painted on it in bright pink, was missing. She wondered why. She rang the doorbell.

Margaret answered. Her glossy black hair was in a single ponytail today, but there were dozens of tiny braids with ribbons and beads and other such ornaments strung in it. A lot of them were dragons. She was also wearing dragon earrings and a dragon T-shirt. Well, she always wore a dragon t-shirt of one sort or another but the earrings were new.

"Hello Miss Raven. Is this a social visit or did Eric screw up again?" Margaret asked.

"Actually there's something I need to ask Eric…well, no, there's something I need to ask The Great Can't. I was hoping there might be a way to do that." Raven answered.

"There sure is. Hypnosis. Every once and a while I tie him down to a chair and put him under so I can give his alter ego what-for." Margaret answered. "Not that it works – the talking-to I mean – but it does make me feel better for the attempt. Come on in." she said, stepping aside so they could enter the foyer. "So is there a reason the Knights are here with you?" she asked.

"Oh don't mind them. They're just my stalkers."

"You mean your boyfriends?"

"Yes, that. What did I say?" Raven asked innocently. Margaret started laughing.

"Very funny." Malchior grumbled.

"It is not as though we do not invite it." Rorek pointed out.

"Make yourselves at home. I'll go get the chair and the idiot."

Eric looked more than a little freaked out when he floated into the living room, chair, ropes, and all. His hair was a mess on one side, his eye makeup was smudged on one eye and nonexistent on the other, and his eyes were wide with narrowed pupils that appeared dazed and unfocused. He didn't seem to recognize, or even notice, the guests sitting on the couch. Margaret expertly floated his chair into an open space on the other side of the coffee table.

"Um, I don't think the ropes are actually necessary." Raven said.

"I thought she was making a joke!" Rorek exclaimed.

"It's easier to keep his focus like this. Trust me." Margaret said.

"I like the décor, by the way." Malchior said.

"Thanks! You like dragons too?" Margaret asked brightly.

"Can we just get this over with?" Raven asked hurriedly before the irony could turn physical and crush them all.

"Right, okay." Margaret said. She then put her hand in front of Eric's face and snapped. Suddenly his eyes focused properly. He blinked rapidly for a few seconds and then looked down at Margaret.

"Oh no, not this again!" The Great Can't exclaimed. "Look, I'm a hero now! That's a better option, isn't it?" he exclaimed desperately. "Oh, hello Miss Raven! And scary people with amazing hair."

"If you mention hair, again, at all, during the remaining duration of this interview, I am going to take this dagger,"

Raven snatched the blade away from Malchior. "Don't." She turned to The Great Can't. It was weird seeing him as Eric. She still couldn't help but wonder how he managed to get his own body. It was possible he had some power similar to that of Billy Numerous…but she doubted it. "The reason Margaret brought you out is because I need to ask you something."

"Really? Alright! Ask away!" Can't said brightly.

"A few weeks ago you told me that this Miss Tia of yours had two messages for me. 'It's your brother' and 'do you know where the tea is?', right?"

"Actually that last one was wrong. It was actually teeth, not tea. Sorry about that."

"Right. Well I have my teeth, even my baby teeth if that's what she meant. I'd like to know why I need them but that's not why I'm here. I want to know about the first message. To my knowledge I don't have any siblings. So _who_ is my brother, then?"

"Um…I think his name is Duke…or maybe he was a duke…'duke' was in there somewhere I'm sure…um…to be honest I really don't know. Miss Tia can't always make herself very clear. Sometimes it takes a few dreams before I'm able to understand what she's saying and a lot of the time it feels like there are all these other people trying to butt in on our conversation. It's kinda rude. I mean, once it got so confused that I thought she was trying to tell me she was my mother. Turns out she's actually someone else's mother. Anyway, so you have your teeth?" Can't asked brightly.

"Yes."

"Great! So now I can give you her second message on that score." he said.

"Second?"

"Yes. Eat them."

Raven stared at him. "_Eat_ them?" she repeated.

"Yep! Miss Tia says they need to go back into your body because…um…sorry, I can't remember the rest of the message." Can't admitted.

"Because if someone else gets a hold of your blood or your bone then they have a channel into your mind. _If_ they know how to use them." Malchior stated.

"Bone is preferable. Blood needs to be alive to work and it dies after a time. But bone can stay preserved for long periods of time. Of course, skin can be used as well but it also has to remain alive and it dies even more swiftly than blood." Rorek explained.

"But human bodies can't digest _teeth_! If I swallow my teeth they'll just come right back out like everything else the body doesn't use." Raven said.

"This is deep magic, Raven. It tends to make less sense than regular magic as a general rule. In this instance the physical shells will pass on, but the bit of you that is yourself will return to your body and the teeth will no longer be part of you." Malchior explained.

"Yes, and I'm sure no one is going to dig through miles of sewage just to find my teeth." Raven mused. Then something came to mind that made her just a bit uncomfortable. She resisted the urge to rub her ajna chakra, she'd asked the twins about that after this interview. "Now, about my brother. Did Tia tell you how I can find him?" she asked.

"Um…she did but I didn't really understand. Something about a circle made of stone. Sorry." Can't answered.

Great. This was just like some kind of premonition. It wasn't going to make sense until AFTER she could have really used the information. And that was all assuming this wasn't some kind of weird lucid reoccurring dream that Can't kept having and actually had some point to it. She sighed. "I guess that's everything. Thanks."

"Should I try to let you know when she tells me something else?" Can't asked.

"Yes, but only if you can tell me anything coherent." she answered.

"Will do! Now, could someone untie me and get me away from this crazy child?" Can't asked desperately.

"Stow it, Great Can't." Margaret said, shoving a wad of paper towels in his mouth.

The three Titans got up and Margaret showed them to the door where they said their goodbyes. She had already closed it behind them when Raven thought to ask about the 'male' box. Oh well, it probably wasn't important.

"Miss Roth! Miss Roth!" someone called out just as they were about to fly off. Raven stopped and looked around, surprised. The only people who called her by her last name were all from Azarath.

Sure enough, it was a field agent who rushed up to them. Raven recognized her face. "Sarah Bents, right?"

The monk beamed. "Yes! I'm the leading California field agent. I'm glad to finally meet you, and a bit relieved. We weren't sure how we could contact you without raising suspicion. Do you know Margaret?" she asked. The woman was balanced on the balls of her feet and seemed ready to jump right into the air. Hopefully she'd remember not to. If she was worried about actively seeking out the Teen Titans then flying off would _really_ blow her cover.

"Yes, I do. Do you?" Raven asked, surprised.

"Oh yes! She's been helping the Order out a lot in the past few years. She even managed to snag a townhome to use as a housing branch here in Jump City for the time being." Well, that could explain where some of Margaret's income probably came from. Earthborn agents probably got more money out of the deal than Azarath realized considering a single Azarathian diamond could probably have bought this house. "So far we have five monks and three sorcerers ready and waiting for action. Is there any way we can get in contact with you on short notice if we need to?" she asked.

"Yes." Raven answered, producing an old-style Titan Communicator from her belt. "Use this for now. You can reach our communicators directly."

"Excellent! As soon as we have more people we're going to start patrolling Jump City, if that's okay with you."

"Patrolling?" Raven asked.

"Looking for signs of the Church of Blood. We'll let you know as soon as we've found anything. We also have orders to investigate the mysterious collapse of Old Jump, but only if we have your permission." Sarah Bents explained. She was very bright-eyed and a bit too eager in Raven's opinion. She had to be over a decade older than Raven but she was acting like someone bursting with nervous energy. Maybe she'd had a bit too much caffeine.

"Of course. Go right ahead." Raven said.

Sarah Bents ripped of a salute, an _actual_ salute. "You got it!" she said, and she ran down the street. A few seconds later and she was running right back. "Um…how do you work this thing?" she asked, indicating the communicator.

(O)

"I really, _really_ need to clean all this out." Raven sighed. This was the fifth closet she'd inspected and she _still_ couldn't find what she was looking for. Not the teeth. She had the teeth. She never forgot where she put that chest. But there was the _other_ thing and she could not find it. She hadn't thought of it as very important until now. Just something she'd kept. It was small, it didn't take up a lot of space, and it didn't need to be checked on now and again like some of the other items she was levitating out of the closets in her search for it. So, where would she have put it?

"Sweet Maartuz, Love. What did you feed these plants?" Malchior asked in astonishment.

"Ether crystal shards." she answered. "It was a bit of an accident but it had an interesting effect."

"_I'll_ say. I'm surprise they don't explode."

"Me too. But you can bang them on a rock and nothing happens."

"I don't want to know how you know that."

"Would you like some assistance with your cleaning?"

"Not now." She sighed. "Not in here either." she said. She levitated everything back in place and went to the next one.

Finally, though, in the sixth closet she found what she'd been looking for. It was in a small black box with brass binding that had been polished with a special alchemical concoction that made it look like gold. She twisted the lid open as she was leaving the closet and showed the contents to the twins.

"What do you think?" she asked them. "Do I need to swallow this too?"

They stared at it. They stared at her, glanced at each other, and then looked back at it. Finally Rorek reached out and picked it up. "My Lady…would you explain this to us?" he asked in a slow voice.

"When I was little, Azar tried to have this stone removed." she answered. "I was born with this, you see." she told them, pointing to the identical stone on her forehead. "It's not a traditional ajna chakra like the other monks wear. It's a mark…from my father. My mother has one too and tried to have it removed at the same time. But…they just grow back. They only tried once on me since I was little and it was incredibly painful. But Arella tried several times. It never worked. Three months later and it grows right back."

"I see." Malchior said, taking the stone from Rorek and examining it. "You only have one of these?" he asked with an odd voice.

"Fortunately, yes. Is it as dangerous as my teeth?" she asked.

"More so, I should think. It is like a thing of both blood and bone." Rorek said, taking the stone back for another examination. The two of them seemed incredibly fascinated with it. Their voices sounded just a bit unfocused.

"Right…so, would swallowing it work?" Raven asked as Malchior plucked the stone back out of his brother's hand.

"Mmm?" he asked, staring at the little jewel which was in one hand and fending off Rorek's attempt to grab it with the other.

It was only when the twins began a full-out fist-fight, spill words flying through the air too swiftly for her to actually catch, that she remembered about dragons and precious stones. She also remembered the way the both of them tended to kiss her forehead more often than her cheek, or touch her forehead with theirs before or after a long kiss on the lips. Duh, duh, duh.

She sighed and rubbed her face. Well _this_ wasn't getting her anywhere. She glared at her boyfriends. Wow, 'boyfriends'. Just a few months ago and she wouldn't have thought she'd ever have _one_ of those. Now she has two, at the same time. And they had been so good about keeping the whole fighting over her business down to a minimum. Sigh.

She called the stone back, or tried to. What actually ended up happening was that she pulled Rorek out of the fray fist-first, the stone being in his fist. At first he didn't realize what was going on, and then he spotted the fact that she was holding the black box under his fist and tapping her foot. He gave her a pleading look.

"My Lady, _we_ could keep it safe." he told her desperately.

"I don't doubt it, but you can't seem to decide on which of you _should_." she stated.

"This is how we work things out!" Malchior tried. "We got to the part where we'll take turns, now we're trying to decide who gets the first turn and how long each turn should last."

"Even so, I'd very much like it to stay in the box." she said, tapping at Rorek's fist. "Rorek." But he was extremely reluctant to let go. She tried letting the box levitate so she could use both hands to pry his fingers away but the fact of the matter was that the dragons were a lot stronger than she was, physically. "Rorek, that's mine." she reminded him.

"Please, My Love?" he all but begged.

She blushed. She tried not to but it happened anyway. Maartuz, it was happening way too often these days. She was about to ask why they wanted it so bad in an effort to find something to say but she managed to stop herself on account of this being an incredibly stupid question.

And then Malchior was next to her, his arms going around her waist and his face nuzzling at her ear. "If it's jewels you want, Love, you need only ask." he murmured. "We'd shower you with enough priceless jewelry to make a wealthy queen blush if we thought for a second that was what you wanted."

"I…" she lost her hold on the box and the jewel. The box dropped but the jewel just stayed in Rorek's fist. Rather than trying to run off with it, though, he moved forward, pulling his scarf down and using his free hand to cup the side of her face that Malchior hadn't claimed.

"Please, My Love?" he whispered against her lips.

Why was it that Malchior could call her 'Love' almost constantly and she was perfectly fine but when Rorek called her 'My Love' like that it affected her so deeply? Her mouth was already opening for him almost of its own volition. He responded to this and his tongue flicked inside but pulled back out again rather swiftly.

"Please?" he repeated.

"A-alright…" she murmured, only partially aware of what she was agreeing to. His tongue returned, this time for long enough to make her legs give out. One of these days she was going to get use to this.

"Un vul Ruvaak, hi kos hahnu mu lahney wah su'um." Malchior whispered in her ear.

'Our dark Raven, you are the dream we live to breathe.'

She _felt_ the words sink into her that time. Felt them go deep as though they were a blade piercing into her and carrying more than just their basic meaning. She felt the truth of them, that they had come from both Malchior and Rorek, and felt something that wasn't so much a vision as a deep certainty of a future she knew she wasn't quite ready for just yet. Was this what they had felt when she'd said those words to them?

Eventually Rorek released her, though he and Malchior held her upright until her legs decided to regain strength. "Thank you, My Love. We will guard it with our very lives."

"Is it too late to call foul play?" she mumbled, memory and normal thought processes returning.

"Go ahead." Malchior answered, turning her face towards his. He had divested himself of his own scarf and was smirking. "It's my turn next anyway." he purred.

"Alright, alright, it's yours." she surrendered, pulling out of their arms. "But you two have to decide who gets it when on your own. You're not allowed to make me choose between you."

"Understood, Love." Malchior said, holding a hand out for the stone. To her slight surprise Rorek handed it over. "I think we have it figured out, though."

"Oh, good."

Well, that took care of that. Now all that was left was to swallow her teeth. Ah well, bone appetite.

(O)

It wasn't his imagination, he knew it. They _were_ tarnishing. And that was rust, he was sure. It wasn't bright red like you tended to think of when you heard the word 'rust'. Instead it was a sort of brownish color that made him think of dirt. But there was no dirt here so it had to be rust. Oddly enough the toothpaste seemed to be able to take it off pretty easily. He just had to dry it real fast after washing and get it back on his finger so the oil on his skin would help protect it.

Once that was finished he went back out of the bathroom and banged on one of the walls. A video screen appeared in the panel high above him showing that jittery blond with the big hands and big eyes. She was eating a sandwich and had her feet up on the counter. She swallowed her bite and gave him a friendly smile. "Need something?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm bored." he answered. _And scared out of my wits._ he added, but only to himself. "Lunch break?" he asked, indicating the sandwich.

"You could say that. We don't really have very strict work hours or schedules on Azarath. We tend to work to the job rather than the clock. Right now I'm waiting for the next big project to come up, which probably won't happen for a while since all resources are being diverted to the Church of Blood mission." she explained.

"Yeah, about that. Any idea what's going on?" he asked.

"Lots of chaos. They're mostly giving the monks and sorcerers some crash courses in being field agents and shoving them out into various parts of the US. The Batman person is helping Patriarch Zanith organize it all." she answered.

"So have they found anything?" Red X asked.

"Turns out the Church of Blood is a lot more wide-spread than we thought. Seems like they have connections and hold-ups all over the world so it'd be a bit tricky for anyone who isn't part of a secret other-dimensional order to make any moves against them." she answered.

Red X rolled his eyes under his mask. _I could have told you that._ But he decided not to say this out loud. As far as the technicians knew he was just someone they needed to keep in protective custody.

"So, what's your name?" she asked.

"Red X." he stated.

"My name's Clair."

"Awesome." he wasn't really listening, though.

"So are you a super hero or a super villain?"

"Yes."

She giggled. "Super anti-hero then?"

"Sure."

"Do you like video games?"

He looked up. "I thought this place didn't have any." he said.

"We don't have any from earth, but I know what they are and I've made a few. Want to try one? We can play together."

"Sure, why not?" It wasn't as though he had anything better to do.

That had been about five days ago.

Once more he was in the bathroom, and now he was staring at the two thin crescent pieces of brownish reddish metal that had once been his left-hand ring. The other wasn't doing too much better, but it had yet to actually break.

He stared at the pieces in his hand. It almost looked like they were getting smaller as he watched. He wasn't sure they'd survive another date with his tooth brush, though.

He had asked for more iron, of course. But the stuff they gave him barely lasted an hour. If only he'd gotten that necklace of rings like he'd wanted. He could just replace them as they rusted away. Now all he had was one ring and it was only a matter of time before—

He didn't hear the snap, he felt it. And suddenly he was scrambling in the sink, trying to save the pieces of _both_ rings from slipping through the drain. But the moment his skin left contact with both of them his hand froze and he watched them clatter and slip, only on piece remaining at the drain and a heavy breath would tip it all the way through.

_Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh god…_

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he froze. No, no this wasn't possible. It _couldn't_ be possible. She didn't even know where he was! She couldn't…no…she couldn't be here…she just _couldn't_!

But as his eyes and head turned just enough to look, he saw that familiar pale skin with the manicured finger nails, each painted with deep blood red polish with a line of gold at the curved ends. And then the stench of rotting flesh hit him like a brick in the face.

So this was it, the world was doomed. Well okay, his world was anyway. So very, very doomed. Might as well make a joke while he was at it.

"You know, I think the style is for nails to be squared these days."

"Thank you, Precious. We'll keep that in mind."

(O)

Back in the old days, back when he had walked a land where magic was all the science and technology people possessed, where all the wilderness merged into one enormous world full of strangeness and fear, there had been nights so dark and full of shadows that even the most senseless of fools sought shelter rather than sleep in the open air. They were the nights where it was best to keep the torches unlit else the light turn the land around you into a world of ink and allowed your eyes to do the best they could. It was on these nights where strange noises would haunt windows and the arching dimensions of houses as they slipped and split and flitted about, riding on the wind with no purpose that any mortal mind could possibly fathom. On nights like these the best thing to do was pull the covers over your head and wait until morning light chased it all away.

But it seemed to Rorek that the people of this time had simply trained themselves not to notice the shadows. Or, better yet, had simply forgotten that there was anything to know. Shadows were not an absence of light. Darkness was the absence of light. Shadows were made _by_ the light. In this day and age the people simply saw shadows as those areas where some physical obstruction prevented the light from filling all available space. And, somehow, that was as good as throwing the covers over your head, if not better. The best way to be noticed by something or someone was to look directly at them. And how could one notice something that they not only did not believe in but had no knowledge of to even _dis_believe?

Rorek wished for such ignorance because tonight was one of those dark nights. The sun had only just set half an hour ago but already it was so dark that the street lights were creating contrast rather than illumination. Orbs of light floated in the inky black, showing a patch of street and, often, some homeless wanderers huddled around them for what little comfort the light brought them.

Perhaps ignorance wasn't as much protection as he thought.

The siren signal led them to a street of abandoned shops in a part of town that had fewer working street lamps for the homeless to huddle around. In fact there was only one just outside the remains of a cast iron fence and no one was near it. Rorek wondered why until he saw the shadow it was casting. A dozen dark shafts stretched out over the weed-strewn terrain like the oppressive bars of a jail. But one of the shadows, one of the inky black bars, was casting itself at the wrong angle.

He wished he hadn't seen that.

"This place looks creepy enough even squatters steer clear." Ophelia volunteered. She shivered. "I don't like this. Nights like this, Mother always told me it was best to stay inside."

"Yes, it is." Rorek said.

"Then let's see what's up here so we can get back home." Nightwing said.

"I hate it when it's quiet like this." Cyborg said as they cautiously approached the shop where the signal had come from. It looked like it had once sold amusing colorful things at one time. There were the remains of a doll and some small wooden horse in the window that looked only just big enough for a child to sit on.

"I know what you mean. Give me a raving madman with a clear path of destruction any day." said Nightwing.

Rorek's senses were heightened with the thrills of fear that laced through him each time the image of that wrong shadow flashed back into his mind. He tried to keep this from Malchior but it didn't work. Malchior was just as sensitive to nights like this, if not more so, and had decided to go find Raven for the comfort her presence could bring.

The door was cracked open. Whatever locks had been on this place were gone now. Rorek pushed it open the rest of the way with spellfire just to be safe. He was rather glad he had. Something fell, having been balanced on the jarred door with the apparent intention of falling, and dumping, onto whoever might have been careless enough to open it by hand. The titans stared.

"Is that whitewash?" Lady Eisen demanded incredulously.

Rorek knelt down next to the milky puddle and froze it solid. "I do not know what 'whitewash' is, but whatever this is I doubt it can do us harm in a frozen form. Unless you slip. Mind your step." he advised.

He was able to get a decent view of the space before Cyborg's flashlight turned what might have been the innocent chamber of a forgotten land for children into a nightmare world full of shadows. He wanted to tell Cyborg to turn his light back off but could not face the questions that would rise. Fortunately the flashlight turned towards another part of the store.

"Fan out." Nightwing instructed. "Something tripped the sirens here."

Starfire held a glowing green orb in her hand for light. It was a soft light, though. It made fewer shadows than the strong beam of Cyborg's. Rorek decided to follow her.

The toy shop was surprisingly large on the inside. The outside face of it had seemed a bit cramped to Rorek. Shelves separated isles where discarded and decrepit objects and bits of plaster decorated the available surfaces, making it a good idea to hover rather than walk. Something seemed out of place, though. A wide, brightly-colored box with no dust. It attracted Starfire's attention. "I wonder what this—" she began, reaching out to touch it before Rorek could stop her. He did manage to snatch her out of the way just before something flew out of the box on a spring and hit the opposite shelf with a _splat_.

Rorek and Starfire stared at it, then at each other. "Was that a pie?" Starfire asked.

"I believe someone is—"

"OW!"

"Cyborg!"

The Titans converged upon the shout to find Cyborg rubbing his, ahem, rump area and glaring at what appeared to be a rubber boot of some kind that had been attached to a spring.

"This is ridiculous." Ophelia volunteered. "I mean, Damien and I just found a whole lot of banana peels over there that we nearly slipped on."

"I was almost pied in the face." Starfire said.

"Let's get to the bottom of this so we can go home. I think the back door is this way." Nightwing said.

"Nightwing! Look out!"

_Thunk!_

"Oooooow…"

"Why is there a rake in a toy store?"

Nighwing rubbed his face, wincing. "Rorek, are you able to see pretty clearly in the dark?"

"I am when there is not so much sharp light." Rorek answered, looking over at Cyborg.

"You see better in dim light?" Cyborg asked.

"Bright light creates sharp shadows, my friend. And on a night like this the shadows are not our friend."

"Got it." Cyborg dimmed his flashlight down to a dull glow that was _far_ better than the bright beam.

"Lead the way." Nightwing offered.

Rorek took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind the way he'd learned on Azarath. It didn't work too well. He was so on edge that his senses were twanging and every scent, sound, movement of air, or flicker of shadow felt like a threat. That was probably why he tore the spring-loaded punching bag into pieces when it nearly socked him in the face for opening the back door.

"Remind me to leave you alone come April." Cyborg proffered in the silence that followed as Rorek grabbed the spring itself in a fit of temper and turned it into a wad of twisted metal.

"This is not a night for _jokes_." he snarled. Then he heard a noise and looked up.

Starfire was the closest shoulder available to grab and so he snatched her up and yanked her out of the way seconds before something huge and, from the sound of it, _very_ heavy fell right where the Titans _would_ have been if most of them didn't have blade-honed reflexes and the last two hadn't been near people who could grab them. In Cyborg's case that person was Ophelia, who certainly had no trouble moving large amounts of metal around at high speeds.

A large granite block with the words 'Laugh this one off' inscribed on a note taped to the face of it now obstructed their way back into toy shop's front area.

Rorek was _not amused_. But someone was. Unfamiliar laughter filled the chamber. "Oh contraire," came a voice from some speaker system high up in the ceiling. "_Every_ night is a night for jokes! HahAhAhaHAhAHA!"

Rorek leapt to his feet and took in his surroundings. Sight, scent, sound, feel…boxes, shelves, mold, a table, two chairs, two doors, one blocked, the other opened into inky darkness, shadows, Nightwing's fear…Nightwing? Rorek looked at his friend and saw the eyes of his mask were bulging. There appeared to be very little blood in his face.

"Guess who, Birdy Boy!" said that same voice. "Bet cha didn't expect me to come slumming in a town with such a ridiculous name, did you?"

Nightwing's jaw set and his eyes narrowed in a determined glare. "You think you're a match for _us_, Joker?-!" he demanded.

"Why not? I've already caught your other friends."

There was a scream from beyond the door. Rorek felt his own blood leave his face. "Raven!" he gasped, bolting for the door.

"No! Rorek wait! It's a trick!"

"_You idiot!"_ Malchior snapped in his head. Rorek froze, feeling Raven's form resting comfortably in Malchior's arms, her eyes glued to the book they had made for her. But it had sounded so _real_!

A stone slab slammed into place behind him, cutting him off from the rest of the Titans before he was able to return.

Alright, now where? Hallway, more doors, some large area that way, but there was light coming from over there. As was the inane laughter. He approached it cautiously, preparing a sleep spell as calmly as he could with every nerve and sense screaming in his mind. But at times like these, where others became hot with rage, his fury ran cold and he found himself approaching blinding rage from the opposite direction. He was a wound spring that only appeared to be calm and collected.

He entered the room. Lots of light, a control booth of some sort, a white-faced man with red lips, green hair, and a purple suit was before him. To his left was a white-faced woman in a form-fitting suit of alternating black and red shapes. There was a gloved fist attached to some sort of pistol that she was pointing right at him.

"Hiya handsome!" she said in a cheerful, friendly voice. He blasted her pistol out of her hand before it did whatever it was supposed to and threw the sleep spell at her on instinct. She passed out immediately.

"Did you just hit a lady?" the strange clown man asked with surprise. "Tut, tut, Prince Charming. That wasn't very gentlemanly." he said, wagging a finger at Rorek as he approached.

"I believe our definitions of the term 'lady' suffer a severe lack of similarity." Rorek stated.

The man Nightwing had referred to as 'Joker' just shrugged, that too-wide smile returning to his face. "Oh well. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm The Joker. My friends call me Jokey, at least they would if I had any friends. Speaking of friends! Want to see how yours are doing?" he asked, gesturing to a computer screen on the control console.

The picture was strange and green in color, but shapes and shades were recognizable, and most of them were on the floor. Only one was still up and appeared to be punching the stone slab that had nearly killed them. Rorek stared, his eyes growing wide with horror at the realization of what he'd done.

"I admit, I was expecting the Tamaranian to last the longest. But that Lady Icy girl – or whatever she's called – is something else. Oh! I spoke too soon! Down she goes!"

Rorek grabbed the man by his collar.

"Oh don't worry, Princy Boy! They're not dead…yet." The man's smile went from twistedly cheerful to sinister.

Rorek glared at him, wondering if he dared risk that this Joker person had some way of killing the Titans should he, Rorek, decide to do some face-bashing. Then he got a good look into the man's eyes. His own eyes widened in horror and he dropped the clown, backing away.

No…no, no, no, no, _no_. This could not be real. But there was no doubt. This man was more than just insane. He was…Rorek got a hold of himself. Now was _not_ the time to break apart.

"Glad you see things my way." said The Joker, straightening his suit. "Now, how about we—whoops!" Rorek made to strike but The Joker whipped out something that looked to be an obscenely large hand-held blaster of some kind and pointed it at Rorek's face. That made him hesitate. "I know this probably wouldn't kill you, but a blast to the face will certainly put a crimp in your love-life. Oo! I have an idea! Let's play 'who's quicker'!" He pulled the trigger. Rorek pulled up a shield of spellfire but…

He let the spellfire drop and he glared at the thing that had popped out of The Joker's blaster. It was a little pole with a flag on the end that said 'Bang!'

"Whoops! HaHAhahaHAhAHahAHaHA—Ach!"

Rorek glared, his left hand holding The Joker's neck and tightly. "Just for that," he began, on the very brink of his rage, "I am going to make this slow." he snarled.

"Ckg! You c-can't do that. You're the – uck – nice one!" The Joker gasped.

"Am I? Then you really do not know me very well. In fact I can be just as nasty as my 'evil twin'. I am simply much better at hiding it."

"You don't say." The Joker waved a hand frantically. At first Rorek thought he was trying to ward him off somehow, he just got the direction wrong. But then he felt a sharp pricking in his leg. He looked down to see something that Malchior named for him. It was a dart. Rorek dropped The Joker and yanked it out but, according to Malchior, the poison would already be in his system. He looked around and saw…Raven? No, she smelled wrong, _felt_ wrong. Instead she smelled like…

Rorek narrowed his eyes. "Madam Rouge?"

The false Raven smirked and changed into the red-clad woman. "Very good. But I suppose I cannot fool a strong sense ov smell. Tell me: Ven vone of hyu are drugged, does eet affect ze ozer?"

His mind was growing foggy. His limbs felt like lead. He tried to step forward, or blast her, or perhaps shout something but he collapsed, only just managing to catch himself before his smacked his face into the floor. The world began to spin, his body wouldn't cooperate. Everything was so very heavy and yet his head felt as though it was floating about, perhaps bobbing gently against the ceiling like a balloon that had come free from its anchor at that party Starfire threw for the temporary Titans.

He knew this feeling. He, or one of them, had experienced it before. An opiate could incapacitate a dragon, yes, but it would take a constant feed of the drug for it to last. Otherwise their swift healing would detoxify their bodies too quickly. It took a real effort of will to keep alcohol in the body long enough to get drunk. There were very few poisons that could cause a dragon any real concern. One of them, however, had been in that dart.

"Y-yew…" he whispered.

"That's right, Princy! Us!"

"I zink he ees talking about zee tree."

"Oh…right…"

There was only one part of a yew tree which _wasn't_ fatally poisonous to humans. The berries. But it was the berries which could severely debilitate a dragon. Whatever the dart's poison was, it'd either been mixed with yew berries or it was _all_ yew berry.

"_They know!"_ he thought desperately to Malchior as his vision clouded. _"They know what we are!"_

"_We're on our way, Rorek! Just hang on!"_

But he couldn't. The world went black. The last thing he heard was. "Goodnight Sweet Prince. AHAhaHAhAhaHAhA!"

(8)

A/N: How's that for a cliffhanger? (Troll Face) Told ya things would be getting more interesting! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!-!-!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
She was going to be the death of them both! Gods, titans, Blood Magic, deep magics, touched clowns, and now Faal Vopraan! Might as well make her the Dark Keeper and be done with it!

Don't worry, I promise to update Friday (US Central Time) as usual :).


	46. House of Blood

A/N: This has officially become my longest story on FF. Not based on chapters, but based on the freaking word-count. Which has reached the 300,000s. I mean, that's more words than Spellbinder and Spellfire COMBINED. AND it's not over. AND it's getting a sequel. But long stories have always been a lot easier for me to write than short stories. Forever Yours is probably the only one-shot I've managed AND it's so corny it could become the sole source of popcorn for a major movie theatre.

(8)

_The High Priest fashioned for me a pair of tomes. One white and one black. He advised me to scribe magical knowledge within the black book and memories in the white book and encouraged my curious talent with depictions. Nothing stimulates the mind quite like an image. This I have done and spent many months completing. He has told me that there will always be pages enough for my words and I will never want for another diary or grimoire. They are grand gifts that I shall cherish, and in these past months I have done so by complying with his wish that I record as many memories and magics as I possess, accompanying them with depictions in ink. It is useful that I am able to rearrange the passages in this grimoire as well as remove or rewrite what I wish. I shall never want for paper to scribe the notes of my studies upon ever again. One day I hope to return the favor of such a gift, and now that my efforts of record have been completed up to this point, perhaps I shall set out on just such a quest._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 46 – House of Blood**

Dusk had only just turned into night and yet it might as well be 3:00 am.

Malchior found himself alone in the living room. He wasn't entirely sure where Beast Man was or what he was doing, but he was pretty sure he knew the where and what of the other two. At least they had finally decided to follow Raven's lead and didn't do that in front of anyone anymore. Personally, he wasn't entirely sure that those two were a very good match. It seemed to him that they were going to wind up driving one another up the wall if they weren't careful.

He wasn't watching the television. Instead he was looking out the window at the corner where the horizon was most visible. He _should_ still be able to see a small hint of sunlight shining from the curvature of the world itself. He did not. It wasn't even cloudy, for Pahmonah's sake! But the moon and stars, never very bright within the polluted airs of a city, were even dimmer tonight than usual. In fact, the moon was yellow-orange rather than white. Not that this was entirely unusual but…perhaps it should be.

He shivered. Rorek's sighting of the wrong shadow flashed through his head. Tonight was a night to stay indoors. He wished he could be glad that he was, but half of him was out there with the rest of the Titans.

Raven was in her room. Alone. Probably she wanted to be alone. He didn't. He thought about knocking on Beast Man's door but…he'd try Raven first.

He knocked. "Raven? It's me." he said. "Can I come in?"

Usually he was quite the fan of her silencing barrier. It meant that no one else could hear those little sounds she wasn't always aware she made when they were…_alone_. It was hard to find the time these days with Nightwing's extended training schedules and Rorek's insistence that they spend some time with their _other_ friends if only so Raven didn't get burned out. However, the silencing barrier did mean that she had to either answer the door personally or, at the very least, open it in order to answer. She did this now.

She was curled up in bed and had apparently preferred to open the door by magic rather than leave her comfortable position. She had quite a lot of pillows at her back and there was a familiar book in her hands.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Not really," he kind-of sort-of lied. "Just feeling a bit lonely. May I join you? I promise not to interrupt your reading."

"Um…alright. I kind of have some questions about some of these phrases anyway." she answered.

Feeling far more cheerful, he closed the door behind him and approached the bed. He'd stopped wearing his armor around the tower unless they were training, but he wondered if he could get away with going around without a shirt on as well. He could when he was in his room, but Raven didn't come knocking on _their_ door very often did she? And if he decided to take his shirt off now, then she'd get entirely the wrong idea. It would be difficult to explain why it was that he loved the way she stared at his scars so much. It wasn't the way he was used to them being looked at. Long ago people knew about these knots and their eyes would fill with horror and suspicion to see them on flesh.

But she could see the ones on his face well enough. Her eyes were even now lingering on them.

Hmmm…

"Can you see in the dark, Love?" he asked curiously as he settled in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and she shifted in order to find a comfortable position against his chest.

"No," she answered. "But I can see with very little light."

He chuckled. Hmm, dark room, lots of books, heavy curtains with a bit of magical help to keep the sunlight out; now that he thought about it, it seemed obvious.

"Can you see in this light, or do I need to turn on a lamp?" she asked.

"No, I can see in the dar—with very little light." he answered. "What are you having trouble understanding?"

She showed him, he explained, and then they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Her reading, him simply enjoying her presence and the peace it gave him. He closed his eyes. Part of him wanted to try engaging her in a little kissing, but he did promise not to interrupt her reading. Besides, one of Raven's rules was that there was to be no kissing on the bed. He'd explained that she didn't need to worry about them trying to go further. It wasn't that they didn't want to, ahem, 'fly with' her. It was more that they really didn't want to be found some months later in small bits scattered across Jump City – that had called for a slightly embarrassing explanation about dragons and deep magic and the fact that the 'sanctity' of marriage, which they referred to as 'bonding', was not a choice for them but a survival trait. You could say that deep magic got a bit stroppy about that whole business and, when it came to dragons, it didn't bother to drop little hints.

But then she had explained, blushing mightily, that they weren't the ones she was worried about. They'd both felt quite cheerful about that admission (though Rorek had had the decency not to show it), even if the one she'd very likely been referring to was The Other.

He was in a light doze when he heard the scream. He jerked slightly, felt Raven was still in his arms, and had only a second to realize it had come from Rorek's side.

"No! Rorek Wait! It's a trick!"

"_You idiot!"_ he snapped, shoving his present situation into his brother's mind. He made an effort to wrest himself from his state of repose. What was going on? Someone had tricked Rorek into leaving the others but that was no reason to panic. Rorek might be on edge because of that shadow, but there was hardly anything in this world that could truly worry them. There was Blood Magic, but Rorek had the other ring. Besides, if there were any practitioners in the area, Rorek would have sensed them. There was nothing to worry about. He settled back down, wondering if Raven had noticed anything. But she seemed too engrossed in the book.

He closed his eyes. Minutes later he found himself in Rorek's mind due to some jarring shock and he was staring into the eyes of—

He gasped and jerked so sharply that Raven tore her eyes from the book and gave him a look of concern. "Malchior? What's wrong? What is it?"

"They're in trouble." he answered, gathering up all of Rorek's memories as swiftly as possible. "Nightwing, Rorek, and the others. They may need our help, though Rorek seems to have regained his senses." he added. Still, he was worried. Rorek was very much on edge. Normally when Rorek was angry he became calmer; the white dragon's thoughts got sharper and clearer. But at the moment Rorek wasn't just angry, he was also frightened and unnerved. The shadows, the tasteless pranks, and then hearing Raven scream as though she were in pain.

"What's going on?" Raven asked as the two of them climbed out of her bed. "What tripped the alarm?"

"Someone ca—" Malchior stopped. "Rorek just got hit with a dart."

"A dart? Does tranquilizer work on dragons?"

"Yes, but not for very long. Not unless…" unless it had yew berries in the mix. "Vopruzah…they know." he whispered.

"Know? Know what?"

"We have to go, _now_!" _"We're on our way, Rorek! Just hang on!"_

"Wait! Malchior, tell me what happened!"

"Yew berries."

"What?"

"They poisoned Rorek with yew berry juice. It's one of the few things that can reliably take out a dragon. So they not only know what we are but they know how to deal with us. Even a millennia ago the effect of yew berries wasn't common knowledge!" he exclaimed.

"Who are 'they'?" Raven asked.

It was the calmness of her voice and the steadiness of her gaze that brought him back from the brink of panic. A dull, numb side of him found it amazing that he was suddenly so frightened for Rorek when only months ago he'd have been happy to see the white dragon fall off the face of the earth. But it wasn't just Rorek, was it? Nightwing, Cyborg, and Starfire were in trouble as well. And there was Melphia's daughter. Melphia would never forgive them if they let anything happen to her. Suddenly he really, _really_ wished he and Rorek had decided to do a serious search for Seetho. If Seetho had been anywhere nearby then The Joker would be in pieces. As things stood it seemed that they'd be lucky if they found her alive.

Malchior relayed everything that happened to Rorek as calmly as he could. Raven didn't react; she simply listened with intensity, offering nothing more than a nod to tell him to keep talking or a question here and there. When he was finished her face set into a look of determination. "We need to prepare." she told him. He wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. If they charged in and started blasting things apart they would likely wind up in the same position as the others. Besides, it was very likely that the others would be used as hostages. "Is there anything that can prevent yew poison from affecting dragons?" she asked.

"Yes. Not getting hit with it."

"Helpful."

"I'm sorry, Love, but that's it. Every other poison that affects us has an antidote but no one ever found one for yew berries." he answered.

"What about absinthe? Are you affected by that like normal magic-users?"

"Not unless we want to be. Our bodies detoxify themselves too swiftly. Yew berries are simply one of the few things we can't handle well. It takes a good 4 hours for most dragons systems to deal with a teaspoon of the stuff."

"Then we'll have to take another approach." she said, levitating one of her many books over and giving it to him. "There's a shielding spell in here, page 175. It'll stop almost anything from actually piercing your skin for 10 hours. That's not to say you'll be impervious to internal damage if someone starts hacking at you with a sword, you just won't get _cut_. In some instances that can be worse, but considering what you and Rorek do to each other on an almost daily basis, I'm not going to worry." Then she brought over another book. "In here is a spell that creates a barrier which allows only fresh air through. It's on page 85. I'd like you to enchant five things with it that we can all wear. I'm going to go tell the others what happened."

(O)

The toy shop was deserted by the time they arrived. Raven even scanned it with magic, throwing the entire area into shades of gray that made the shadows look even darker and thicker. As if they needed the help. The only signs of life she could report were the rats and bugs. No people at all.

Malchior knew the delay had been necessary, knew that Raven was right to prepare. But logic and emotion sometimes had very little to do with one another. He _wanted_ to be angry with her. He wanted to shout at her, tell her that it was her fault they were too late, to accuse her of being unfeeling. Didn't she care about her friends? What about Rorek? If this Joker knew how to incapacitate a dragon then he would certainly know how to kill one. She said she loved them! How could she stand back and be so calm about this?-!

He wanted to say all this and he was fighting tooth and nail to keep it inside because she had been right to wait, right to prepare. What use would they be if they were captured too? Still he was fighting against himself, fearful for his brother, for his friends.

Kid Flash appeared from doing a sweep of his own through the shop. "Anything?" Beast Man asked.

"Not even a note saying 'hahaha'." he answered.

Jinx turned to Malchior. "Are you sure you can't find Rorek?"

Malchior had to bite his tongue to stop himself from lashing out. He couldn't help but reflect on the whole 'just be yourself' deal that this modern society seemed so obsessed with. Yeah, sure, great advice. Except that if _he_ were to 'be himself' at this point then the result would very likely bring Jinx to tears, turn Raven into The Other, make a pesky speedy gnat out of Kid Flash (who, despite his incredible speed, wouldn't be able to do much against a dragon), and estrange Beast Man. His _self_, his true self, was a dread dragon. He wished humans would smarten up just a _little_. 'Be yourself' huh? If he followed that advice then he'd be burning down the city. 'This is who I am! Why can't you accept that? No one understands me!'

Perhaps what that statement was actually _supposed_ to mean was 'don't lie about who you are', or 'fess up and get help, it'll be easier in the long run'. A little clarity here would probably be a good thing. After all, was this Joker being himself? Why yes he was! Very much himself! _Should_ he be himself? Hell no! There was always a choice. You could _choose_ to say no to the dark red voices in your mind. But his kind simply never did and never would. Malchior was going to take great pleasure in crushing that clown.

Malchior took a deep breath as unobtrusively as possible before answering with a calm he did not feel. "I told you: Rorek is out cold. He's not even dreaming right now. As soon as he comes 'round I'll know where he is, but for the time being it's like being numb on one side of your face. Can't see, can't hear, can't feel, can't even smell out of that half. Oh I can still feel his existence, but actually finding him with no active thoughts to guide me would be like trying to nail fog to the wall." he told her.

"So, what do we do now? Raven?" Beast Man asked.

Malchior looked 'round and, for a moment, he thought his heart had stopped. Raven was over by the one working street lamp in the area, crouched over the shadow cast by the iron fence. The very shadow that had put Rorek on edge. Daanik! She was going to be the death of them both! Gods, titans, Blood Magic, deep magics, touched clowns, and now Faal Vopraan! Might as well make her the Dark Keeper and be done with it!

Something clicked in his head as Raven stood up. Just to be sure he forced himself to look at the shadow of the fence. All the black bars were pointing in the right direction. He looked back at Raven, realization creeping over him like a trickle of cold water across the scalp.

"I know where they are." she said, turning to face the others. "Just don't ask me how."

"Power of true love?" Kid Flash offered.

Raven visibly winced. So did Malchior. He didn't need to ask because he was pretty sure he knew, and countering it with a sappy statement like that was just _wrong_. "Sure," Raven said, "We'll go with that."

Again wanted to be angry with her, this time for keeping such a monumental secret. But that emotion died away on its own. She was right to keep quiet about it. She was right to keep it a secret, even from them. It wasn't something you talked about; it wasn't something you told someone about. If someone was meant to know then they would find out. Even if she kept this a secret after they bonded (_when_ they bonded, Malchior had a very clear opinion on this matter), she'd be right to do so.

He caught her eye and, quite suddenly, found himself remembering the incident with Sister Fear. Morgaine Le Fay had been right; the shadows _had_ been oddly strong…and oddly focused. The only one they had destroyed was Sister Fear, and that was unusual. Oh it was entirely possible that they'd have passed over the Titans and Batman, but he suddenly doubted very much that any of the other cultists or even Morgaine Le Fay would have been spared. Perhaps they wouldn't have _died_, but there'd have been…bits missing. They hadn't really thought about it much, had they? They hadn't _wanted_ to. It was better like that.

They'd talk about this later. Well, no, they wouldn't, not actually _talk_, but he would at least let her know that he knew. And perhaps…perhaps it was about time she read the unabridged version of Rorek's diary. At least the part about Hrist, anyway. It might give her some comfort if nothing else.

(O)

Rorek opened his eyes. It was hard to think straight. Fog filled his mind as lead filled his limbs. Vision swam in a brilliant light. All he saw was white. A bright, burning white. He had to close his eyes again. He could hear voices, but they were too far away to make out. He could feel marble at his side and he was lying down on…something. There was an enclosed space…and then his mind began to slip away from him.

He had a vague sense of time's passage but was unable to think about it. His thoughts drifted in a dream-like state, flitting about, repeating themselves, going in circles and trying to find some conclusion only to be distracted by other thoughts. The words 'yew berry' came to mind and managed to pull some sort of reaction. He started to fight for thought, and then he fought the poison, closing his eyes to concentrate. Fire was best for that. Malchior would have a much easier time of this, but just because ice was his first element that didn't mean he had no ability to use any of the others. He warmed up his body in an attempt to burn the poisons that could not be purged.

He opened his eyes again. He was sweating terribly, feeling the ache of the fever he had induced. His head swam a little but, for the most part, the poison seemed to be fading. Ha, and it was a poison, too. One that did its worst when taken orally, not as an injection. Things reacted a bit differently. He wiped his forehead on his arm and looked around.

He was in a small room, a cell. It was white, _very_ white with bright white lights that flooded the chamber, chasing away all but the most minute of shadows. He'd been lying on some sort of small bed with white sheets and a white pillow; there was a chamber on the other side that he recognized as a small shower, a toilet next to the shower, and a sink next to the toilet with a slightly foggy mirror above it. Everything was very clean and very, _very_ white, however. It was blinding.

Madam Crow had once told him that the guilty had more to fear from the darkness than the innocent. He wondered if these people had suddenly realized that and were making sure there was as much light as possible everywhere at all times.

There was a single marble door with a brass knob. He went to it and tested the knob. To his shock and surprise it opened freely in his hand. When he stepped out of the chamber he realized, to his horror, _why_.

The space outside his chamber was not a hall as he had expected, but instead it was a chamber of chambers, full of white marble and floodlights. Each chamber or cell was set at a distinct distance apart from all the others. They were in rows of about five across and three down. Some of the cells, all those with people standing around them, were surrounded by circles made of salt. The circles were very exact. Each circle allowed for plenty of walk space between the cells and at the same time allowed the inmates to walk around their own cell without having to squeeze between the circle and corners. Rorek was pretty sure he knew why they had been given such accommodations. It was a statement. One that he was familiar with.

He walked around his circle, searching for the smallest imperfection or warp of shape that might allow him to tear through. He found nothing. Even if he had, though, there was no way out of the outer chamber. This imprisonment had come two-fold.

The walls and doors of the prison were covered in a pale pink scrawl that might have been confused for the marble's texture by the untrained eye. It gave the chamber a sickly organic look, and it was worse when he spotted the pair of double-doors that led into this prison. There the scrawl was obvious and noticeable. It was a blood seal so potent that not even his Nibelungen ring could break it. Perhaps both rings could, but he did not have both rings. That left only two ways out of the prison should they somehow get out of the circles. One was unthinkable and the second unreachable. If only this Slade character hadn't been so deplorable. If _he_ were here…but even hellfire couldn't get through a circle.

So…this Joker was in league with the Church of Blood. That explained Madam Rouge's presence. Apparently she had not been quite so cowed by Malchior as Fulgorite. But how did they learn of him and Malchior? How could they know so much that they even knew of the yew berry poison?

…Old magics…were they foolish enough to…of course, if they were going to use a circle on a night like this then they wouldn't bat an eye at playing with various forms of deep divination. Scrying with crystals to extend your vision elsewhere and seeking help from various incorporeal entities that hovered about the world being mistaken for 'ghosts' was one thing, but the magic of divining was like any magic in that you had to be careful where the power or, in this case, the information was coming from. Perhaps the safe methods did not give you very much, but the thing about the safe methods was that they did _not_ tend to result in contortions, self-mutilation, altered persona, paranormal activity, hostile animals, severe mental distortion, or an overt aversion or hatred of religious symbols and texts.

There came a point in time when it stopped being magic and started being witchcraft, and that was something entirely different.

"Hey, you're Rorek, right?"

Rorek looked around. A man whose costume much resembled a slightly simplified version of Kid Flash occupied the cell behind his. Said costume was entirely red with yellow decoration, though, and his mask covered the entire upper half of his face rather than just some of it like Kid Flash's. So was Kid Flash this man's protégé? So that would make him 'Man Flash'? Probably not. Hmmm…

"Flash?" Rorek guessed.

"Got it in one. Hey, guys!" he called out to the other cells. "Rorek's in this one!"

"Rorek!" someone called.

"Oh Friend Rorek! I am so happy to see you!" Starfire exclaimed, appearing 'round the corner of the cell to his left. To his right Ophelia emerged, and to her right he saw Cyborg pressing against the circle in an attempt to look at him.

On Flash's right another new face came around. He was of dark coloring, much like Cyborg, with a green and black costume and a pair of vibrant green eyes that almost glowed. They had no pupils. "I guess we know who's missing now." he said grimly.

"Missing? Who is missing?" Rorek demanded. "Nightwing?" was his first guess.

"I'm here!" Nightwing called. He was two cells to the left of Flash. Between Nightwing and Flash, Batman emerged.

Rorek did a count in his head. "Damien." he realized. None of the other cells had circles around them from what he could see.

"I was sure it'd be you, though." Nightwing told him. "This doesn't make any sense. Why would they want Damien? Wouldn't dragon blood be really powerful?" he asked.

"No." Rorek answered. "The blood of most magical beings does not work well with Blood Magic. It is difficult to explain why, but they do not get nearly as much power from our blood as they do from human blood." he explained.

"Lucky you, and lucky Starfire." said Flash.

"I am afraid Starfire is not so different from a human as you might think. Physically, perhaps she is, but not to the deep magics. It is Cyborg who, I think, would be the least likely candidate for a blood harvest. Cyborg and Ophelia. If that is, indeed, what is happening to Damien." Rorek explained.

"No difference? Starfire's not even from earth. How can there be no difference?"

"Who's Ophelia?"

"What do you think is happening to Damien?"

Rorek raised his hands in an attempt to stem the flow of questions. "I cannot explain why, but Starfire is human. She is simply a different _type_ of human. I can feel it because my kind are very attuned to the deep magics. This could be part of the reason why Blood Magic gets little power from our blood."

"How so? I mean, you'd think it'd get more. Isn't Blood Magic a deep magic or something?" Nightwing asked.

"When a magic-user begins to practice the arcane arts they begin to develop resistances. It is something like taking small doses of poison at a time so you develop an immunity. Unfortunately Blood Magic still works _on_ us and, most unfortunately, we can use it. So it is not a perfect illustration, but the idea is similar."

"And Ophelia is actually me. Rorek knew my mother so I guess he thinks that means he can call me by name."

"I apologize. I will try not to make such a slip again."

"Uh huh. Tell me something: How is it that you can suddenly decide to think of me as a niece or something when I'm older than your _girlfriend_?" Ophelia demanded.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand? What is happening to Damien?" Batman demanded.

"I do not know." Rorek admitted uncomfortably. "But he is an Azarathian monk, and a potent one. Whatever they want him for, I imagine it has something to do with that."

"Can you get us out of these circles?" asked the one in the black and green suit.

Rorek shook his head. "No. I cannot." he answered.

"I don't get it." said Flash. "It's a line of salt! How can it stop Batman's bombs and GL's ring power? I didn't think anything could keep GL trapped with his ring on full power."

"It is…difficult to explain. Deep magic does not have the same rules as modern magics."

"What I want to know is why we were all left with our weapons and gadgets still on us." Cyborg put in.

"They're making a statement." Batman answered, taking the words right out of Rorek's mouth.

"What statement?" asked the one who had thus far been initialed rather than named.

"That we are so small a threat they are not even going to bother disarming us." Rorek answered, looking around at the marble ceiling and walls of the prison. "'You are weak, you are worthless, even with all your power you are ugly and stupid and beneath contempt.'" he murmured.

"What does that mean?" Starfire asked.

"It is something that tends to run through the mind when they get in your head. Sometimes the worst enemy is not the one who is powerful, but the one that can convince you that you are powerless." Rorek answered almost absently.

"But we pretty much _are_ powerless here, aren't we?" Flash asked.

"Not necessarily." Rorek answered. "I need you to tell me everything you know about our present situation."

"You mean you can contact Malchior through the circle?" Ophelia asked in surprise.

Rorek concentrated. "Not easily, but yes. I can if I focus." It was enough. Enough to… "Oh…" he said, blinking.

"What? What is it?"

"The others are already here."

(O)

Raven emerged from the shadows as a shadow herself, looked around to make sure the coast was clear, and then opened her cloak to let the others out. Beast Boy was shivering visibly.

"Why is it always so cold in that place, whatever it is?" Beast Boy asked.

"Because Raven always forgets to add heat." Malchior teased, but his heart wasn't in it.

Raven had given them the good news and the very, very bad news. The good news was that they knew where the others were and it was on the outskirts of Jump City in an abandoned mansion that was said to be haunted. The very, very bad news was that it was full of a very specific kind of cultist.

The fact that The Joker was working with the Church of Blood was also very, very bad news. Almost as bad as the fact that they now had their white dragon, their monk, their iron man (Cyborg), and their iron woman (Lady Eisen).

Raven wasn't nearly as confident in her ability to fight Blood Magic as Malchior and Rorek were. She also didn't know just how much use the other three on her team would be. Jinx was putting on a brave front but on the inside she was scared to death of seeing Mother Mayhem. Beast Boy and Kid Flash...

They'd prepared as much as they could, and now it was up to Raven to decide what course of action to take. And _this_ was exactly why she hadn't wanted to be the second team's leader.

She took a deep breath and relaxed the barriers she kept around her senses. She hated doing it like this, especially with her friends so close. It wasn't mind-reading but it almost was. Know the person, know the situation, and their emotions gave their thoughts away. But if she sent out her power to scan the area with her usual method then the Church of Blood would know they were here and they were relying on the fact that the Church of Blood would know enough about Malchior and Rorek's link to know that Malchior wouldn't know where Rorek was until he woke up. There was also the fact that their tracker and communication signals were being jammed. Supposedly they shouldn't be here until Rorek regained consciousness. That meant they had an element of surprise.

Jinx's fear was sharp and foremost but there was also a determination there. Kid Flash was also determined. He was determined to protect Jinx and deal righteous revenge to the woman who scared her so much. Beast Boy's emotions were rather sharp, almost like a predator, waiting to pounce. Malchior…Malchior was feeling a number of things. Fear, dread, anger, wariness, and…and something else that was sort of not there, almost as though part of him were asleep.

Was she sensing Rorek's state through Malchior? She could think about that later.

Now that that was out of the way, she began to fan out, finding other pockets of emotion. There were quite a few. There was some excitement, some boredom, some fear, and some blank pockets where people were asleep and dreaming.

"There are about forty people on the ground floor. None on the upper stories, probably because the floors are unsafe. But there are a lot more in the basement. I can't count them all from this distance, but I'm thinking that the basement levels have been extended far beyond their original size." Raven explained. "Nightwing and the others will be down there."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Beast Boy demanded.

"I can't teleport below ground level. There's a barrier. We're going to have to find the stairs. Ideas?" she asked.

"Yes." Malchior answered.

(O)

Malchior's invisibility spell, combined with a mobile version of Raven's silencing barrier, wouldn't fool any competent magic-users, but it _did_ fool the hired thugs that were bunking in the place, theoretically guarding it. Some were playing cards, some were talking, some were drinking beer, others were showing off trying to intimidate each other, and some were being intimidated while trying not to show it. Most of them were men, but there were a few women hanging out in corners or in small groups and looking as rough and unattractive as the men. One got the impression that they'd kill for a lot less than a 'go to the kitchen and make me a sammach' remark. One of them was picking her nails with a knife.

One of the 'thugs' stood out, though. He was a tall black man with a white suit, a shaved head, and, for some odd reason, diamonds (or crystals) studded into his teeth so that his smile (or unpleasant grin) glittered. They didn't have to stay very long in the same room as this man for Raven to realize that the rest of the room was afraid or respectfully wary (though mostly afraid) of him. Even the woman with her head shaved and large black wings tattooed behind each ear seemed to be regarding him uncomfortably. He didn't wear any jewelry save the glittering stones in his teeth and he didn't have a diamond-tipped cane like you'd expect from this kind of picture. He was drinking wine from a fancy glass and wearing dark sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes. For a moment, Raven was sure he'd be able to see them and she kept her senses sharp for any sign of a change in emotion from him. There was none, however. He didn't react at all and they kept going.

Their progress was slow. Raven could levitate them over obstacles but they still had to find wide areas where no one was sitting or standing so that the shifting air currents didn't alert anyone. They also had to be careful not to bump into anyone. They were invisible, not incorporeal.

Eventually they found the passage to the basement. There were two men who were, in theory on guard. In reality, however, they were fast asleep. The door was closed but had one of those old-style locks with the big keyhole. Beast Boy turned himself into a black fly and went through it to have a look on the other side. He came back a few minutes later.

"There's a staircase that goes down into a room with two doors. The door on one side looks kind of old like the rest of the building, but on the other side it looks new and sturdy. There's no one in that first room, though." he reported.

"Is the door locked?"

"Dunno, how can you tell?"

"Like this." Kid Flash answered. He blurred for a second and then answered, "It's locked."

Jinx approached the lock and snapped her fingers. A jolt of electric pink spellfire crackled around the lock, going completely unnoticed by the sleeping guards. She opened the door. "Not anymore." she announced.

"Was it magically blocked as well?" Raven asked as they slipped through the door, careful not to touch the guards or move past them too swiftly. Malchior closed the door behind them.

"No, not that I noticed. That one probably is, though." Jinx answered, pointing to the shiny oak door that Beast Boy had mentioned.

"Then let's see where the other one leads first." Malchior suggested.

They did so, but the door only opened to a barricade of wooden planks and rubble that Beast Boy was only able to get through as a very small serpent. When he came back he reported that there was just dirt, gravel, and rotting wood. So they turned their attention to the door with the magic seal on it. It took Malchior barely a minute to disarm it, though. Raven could sense no one on the other side so they opened it a crack and Beast Boy slipped in and out as a fly once again, confirming this.

The basement on this side of the door looked quite nice. Sparse, but the floors were carpeted, the walls were painted, and all the doors looked sturdy and new. There were even bright floodlights along the ceiling. Almost painfully bright, like knives seeking and destroying any shadows that might possibly emerge. There were very few people nearby so Raven deduced that the doors led to individual rooms or small apartments. Eventually they came to a set of double doors. These opened out into a landing with a wide dramatic staircase leading down into an expansive ballroom, or what might have been a ballroom had there been windows, a chandelier, and any sort of decoration besides the slight water-like texture of the white marble. The lights were on and flooded the chamber but there was still no one around.

Silent and invisible to the naked eye, the group walked down the steps, another set of double doors at the other side of the hall. Raven was tense, expecting to be caught at any second. The others were also ready for anything that might be a trap. But nothing happened.

Not until they were on the other side of the next set of double doors and found themselves in a much smaller chamber, that is. Abruptly the marble doors behind them slammed shut by themselves at the same time that something large and red glowed beneath their feet. It looked like some sort of circular scrawl made of characters Raven recognized from that Blood Magic diagram. A wave of nausea passed through her for a second and then was gone, the characters shattering and disappearing.

"What was that?-!" Flash exclaimed.

"A magic breaker!" Malchior hissed.

"Hiya, kiddies," said a voice from above. The Titans looked up and saw a television screen flash on. There was the face of The Joker, grinning and waving. "Show of hands, who likes a good fruit salad? Got a question, though. Does it work in gas form? Let's find out!"

A purple mist suddenly began to spew out of the corners of the room. Raven tried to teleport but…she couldn't. It felt like…like when you sat up too swiftly and your vision clouds so you have to stop and lay down or something to wait for it to come back. In this instance her magic was like her eyes. It was coming back but too slowly!

Magic breaker…did that mean _all_ their magic had been 'broken'? Apparently it did. The others were starting to cough.

"**Lok** **Vah Koor**!" Malchior shouted. Immediately the air cleared, as though the gas was fog burning up in the sun. He rushed to the doors on the other side of the hall, kicking them down by way of bruit force.

"Heyyyyy, how come you still had magic?" The Joker's voice wined as the rest of the Titans followed the black dragon out of that room. There was a pair of surprised cultists on the other side who obviously weren't expecting them to do that. Well, looked like they didn't know _everything_ about dragons. That was fortunate.

"**Yol** **Toor**!" A blast of fire erupted from the words, catching both cultists in an inferno so hot Raven had to pull up a shield around the rest of them to stop the force of it from scorching the Titans as well, even from behind.

In the end there was nothing left of the cultists but ash, charred organs, and bones. It was so sudden, so abrupt – Malchior just killed them, just like that—

But she didn't have time to dwell because the next moment Malchior was dodging a blast of textured red-black spellfire. Self-preservation overruled horror at this point and Raven's focus snapped right back to the present.

"Don't let that spellfire touch you!" she shouted, drawing out her power to prepare for the battle that was rushing towards them from down the hall.

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Jinx exclaimed, dodging by way of her advanced acrobatic maneuvers while throwing her spellfire while she was at it. Pink blades lashed at the cultists, who were attempting to catch a very uncooperative Kid Flash. He kept poking eyes and tugging at cloth to distract them.

"So much for the element of surprise, huh?" Beast Boy asked. He turned into a python which, given its speed, easily dodged the spellfire.

"Get out of the way!" Malchior snarled, his hands charged with black spellfire. Raven prepared a blast of her own next to him and they unleashed their powers at the same time the moment they saw that Kid Flash was clear. Three of the cultists either passed out or died, Raven wasn't sure which at this point, and the two that were coming to take their place found themselves hesitating just long enough for Flash to get behind them and knock their heads together. This didn't knock them out as it was conventionally supposed to, though, and one of them spun around, about to grab the Titan only to find his skin color missing and his body being uncooperative.

Raven levitated the two cultists, knocked their heads together _again_, and let them drop, this time knowing they were out cold.

"I can feel Rorek!" Malchior told them. "He's at least six meters down."

"Uh, I'm afraid America is still resisting a changeover to the metric system. Sorry." Flash said.

"Roughly 20 feet." Raven told him. "Let's find some more stairs."

"Give me a second." Malchior said. He pressed his hand to the wall and closed his eyes. Raven felt restless, though. A second was a lot of time in a situation like this, even when you were being literal. What was Malchior doing? Finally he opened his eyes. "This way," he said, indicating a seemingly random door. "I know where to go."

Deciding they could ask 'how?' later, Raven nodded and let Malchior lead the way.

(8)

A/N: Fair warning: Things are going to start getting…heavy. Probably not enough to really bother anyone in these days of desensitization where kids expect more than just green skin and boils on their boogiemen, but I'd figured I'd put in the warning just in case.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
No way was it right for an evil witch to have blond hair and blue eyes.

Having to work this Saturday. Bleh. On the one hand that means mucho overtime, which is nice, but on the other it means a 6-day work week, which is tiring. Ugh. Fortunately having a lot of buffer chapters means I can go ahead and update on Sunday as usual. Later!


	47. Glang

A/N: Should've given 'em $20.

(8)

_The High Priest and I traveled to the human courts of Nahl to attend the funeral of King Hrunting, whose passing we mourned bitterly – though I more bitter than the High Priest. His presence was necessary, though his human guise stayed unrecognized until he met with Uthar, the new king, and revealed himself. Uthar, who was known to me with little love, did not accept the High Priest with due respect. But my friend assured me that Uthar was young still and would mature into the teachings his father had passed to him._

_Madam Crow, in the guise of an old woman once again, attended the funeral for she had seen to the old king in his final hours and had ensured his passing be without pain. Between her and the High Priest I witnessed a familiarity of manner that surprised me nearly as much as the deference with which the High Priest paid to Madam Crow. My shock amused my friend but he said nothing until, upon our journey home, I could not bear the confusion any longer and I spoke. In reply he vouchsafed to me that even the mighty ruler of dragons must bow to the Law. When I asked, in some irritation, which Law did he reference, he told me, "Honor thy mother, who was the cradle of thy new life."_

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 47 – Glang**

The others couldn't tell him much. It was little that Rorek hadn't already deduced. Malchior was able to gain more useful information from the marble because it appeared as though most of this underground structure had been made from it. But Rorek was curious about how and why Batman and his friends came to be here as well.

Apparently he'd found the Church of Blood's hideout in Gotham and decided to investigate for clues, thinking it'd been abandoned. It hadn't. He sent out a distress signal that Flash and Green Lantern (GL) responded to, only to be captured as well. Now, though, their communication and tracking signals were all being blocked somehow. But they couldn't quite remember the details of their capture. They were pretty sure their memory had been affected because Batman didn't remember the nature of his attack _or_ sending the distress signal. Everything blacked out after he picked up some piece of paper. He couldn't even remember what was on the paper. The same had happened to Flash and Green Lantern. All _they_ could remember was finding the hideout's basement and calling for Batman. Then they were waking up here.

The Titans were about to tell Rorek what had happened to them – they all remembered quite clearly – but he stopped them.

"I know, my friends. The Joker showed me on a video screen. I…must apologize for my rash action. If I had not rushed off…"

"Then you would have been caught in the gas too." Nightwing cut him off.

"And yet I could have cleared the air had I stayed." Rorek told them wretchedly.

"No use dwelling on it now." Batman stated. "Can you tell us what is happening to the others?"

Rorek closed his eyes. He was having to concentrate on their connection but it was possible to glean things from Malchior through it. They couldn't converse very easilly, but they could exchange clumps of memory, experience, and perception. He struggled to make sense of it. "They are…fighting their way to us. Malchior knows where we are and is leading them. Thus far they have only faced low-powered practitioners. Most likely servant thralls that have been given their power second-hand." Rorek answered.

"So what happens when they reach us? Shouldn't we warn them about these circles?" Flash asked.

"A child could break these circles from the outside." Rorek explained. "All one has to do is disrupt the salt. For them, the difficult part will be the seal on that door."

"You think they'll be able to open it from the outside?" Ophelia asked.

"That depends. If the seal is only on this side then yes. But if it is on both sides…"

"You don't think those rings of yours will work?" she asked, pointing to Rorek's left hand. He looked down at the Nibelungen ring.

"Perhaps, but Raven would need both to break a seal that strong." he answered.

Ophelia swore in German, which was a pretty good swearing language, all things considered.

"So how come you guys didn't get your memories zapped like we did? And how is it the others are able to run around in an active hideout without being taken down like we were?" Flash demanded.

"Could it be these rings?" Starfire asked, holding her hands out to display the iron rings she wore on each of her middle fingers. It was fortunate this Church of Blood did not know about iron's effect on their magic.

"Yes, that would answer his second question. As to the first, I believe it was because we were attacked by The Joker, not glang." Rorek answered.

Flash scratched his head. "Uh…come again?"

"If that was the case, wouldn't this lodestone have protected me?" Batman asked, producing his smooth, egg-shaped magnet.

Rorek stared at it. "Yes…that _should_ have protected you…" he began. "It would have protected you from glang…but not Mother Mayhem." But why would she have gone back to Gotham just to capture Batman?

"I thought this stopped Blood Magic." Batman stated.

"There is a point where the Blood Magic…evolves. It becomes…concentrated. It causes iron to rust and lodestones to lose their power. Have you ever tasted salt water?" Rorek asked.

"Yes."

"Have you ever filled your entire mouth with salt?"

"I did once, on a dare." Flash answered. "Thought I was going to die."

"That is the difference. I am afraid I cannot explain it any better than this." Rorek answered. "A lodestone will not work against Mother Mayhem and iron will rust. The only known way to fight and defeat a practitioner who has reached her level is with these Nibelungen rings." he said.

"What's a Nibleginginging?" Flash asked.

"What about hellfire?" Nightwing asked.

"Theoretically, yes, hellfire could destroy Mother Mayhem. It could also destroy that seal. But how much faith are you willing to put into the hope that this Slade even knows we are here and, further, would decide to assist us?" Rorek asked.

"Uh…none."

"Rorek," Batman began. Rorek turned his attention to Batman, who was holding his lodestone and one of those bladed bat-shaped boomerangs. He let the boomerang go and it stuck fast to the stone. "You said that Mother Mayhem caused lodestones to lose their power. This one is still magnetized. What does that mean?"

Rorek frowned. "I do not know…"

"Also, there's something else I've been meaning to ask you about." he added. He held up what looked like a picture. Rorek narrowed his eyes and adjusted his vision so he could see it. "We found the sixth victim, the one you said was missing? Except the word painted on the wall _wasn't_ 'bone'."

"Teeth?" Rorek read aloud. "Why teeth?" _'Teeth like we'? No, that doesn't work._ "Perhaps they mistranslated the chant." he mused. Thinking. It was a rather simple mistake to make. Teeth were favorite when it came to obtaining someone's bone. They were easy to get to and could stay preserved for a very long time.

"That's a good thing, right?" Flash asked.

"I think that depends on your point of view. The mistranslation did not do the victim any favors. But for the chant…yes, I think that is a sufficiently inadequate translation to weaken its potency should they use it." Rorek answered. Though he honestly doubted how much good it would do them with Mother Mayhem around. Probably it wouldn't matter at all, but he decided not to voice this aloud.

(O)

"Do you have to keep killing them?" Kid Flash demanded in an angry whisper. "Wouldn't it be just as easy to knock them out?"

It wasn't the first time Kid Flash had made some comment like that. He wasn't the only one that had been shooting Malchior some disapproving looks, though, and it seemed Malchior had had enough. He rounded on them, his eyes on Kid Flash but Raven could feel that his actual words were directed to all of them. Even her. "Let me describe to you some of the things I saw as a knight. Let me tell you what happens to the long-term victims of this magic!"

The corridor they were running down now was deserted and Raven couldn't sense anyone else in the area. The sense of Blood Magic seemed to saturate the air more and more the farther down they went but she was sure they were alone for the moment.

"I'll start with the physical marks. There is no hair on their bodies, not even eyelashes. They have no nails on their fingers or toes. Neither hair nor nails ever grow back, ever. Any liquid that emerges from their bodies is part blood. Their tears are mixed with blood, their saliva is mixed with blood staining their teeth red, their very sweat is mixed with blood. They have to eat a lot of undercooked meats to survive, and in my day meat was very expensive – which is just as well since every day they lived was agony. Their skin was a sickly gray with black blotches. It stretched over sunken bodies and it gave them such pain in sunlight that they would scream even though the sun did not actually burn them. And they are so weak that they can barely walk. Most of the time they simply crawl, and they can crawl very well because their bodies have developed inhuman flexibility. And that is only what they have to suffer physically when there's no one merciful enough to end their lives for them. There is no help for them. There is no saving them. There is no life for them. There is only death. And death, true death, is what all their malefactors deserve." he snarled. "These are not people, Kid Flash. They gave up their rights as _people_ when they started committing murder for the sake of power. So you can save your sympathy for their victims and pray you don't have to see any!"

Her desire to protest the deaths of their enemies froze right then and there and began to turn into something else. Her overactive imagination gave her an all-too-clear picture of all this. And then she thought about that happening to one of her kids. She felt The Other rising up inside her but she managed to stop it before it took over, assuring herself that they were safe in Azarath. Patriarch Zanith wouldn't let anything happen to them.

"Alright, alright…" Kid Flash said, swallowing hard. "You don't have to go on, I get it."

"Good."

It was a bit dark down this hallway. Malchior stopped and they all stopped with him.

"What? Not afraid of the dark, are you?" Jinx asked nervously.

"No, it's what's _in_ the dark that I am respectfully wary of." Malchior answered. He looked over at Raven. "Everywhere else has been flooded with bright white light." he stated.

"Is there another way to the prison?" Raven asked.

Malchior shook his head. "No. The door is just down that hall." He gave her a sidelong look. _'Will they let us through?'_

She blinked at him. What? Was he actually—

'_I don't mean the cultists. I'm talking about the shadows. And don't pretend you can't hear me because I know you can.'_

How did he—_when_ did he—did _they_?

'_I'm not angry.'_ he went on, their gazes locked in place so that she seemed to have no choice but to catch his spill words. _'I know this isn't something you can talk about. Just tell me. Will they let us through?'_

She nodded. They were there, and they were angry, but they were even now slipping away. Either they were leaving to show her that, no, they _weren't_ going to lash out at her or her friends, or they were leaving to indicate that they were in no way willing to accept any invitation she might offer. For whatever reason, they were clearing out.

Beast Boy waved a hand obnoxiously between them. "Can you two save this until _after_ we've saved the day?" he demanded. Then he looked over at Jinx and Kid Flash. "Oh for the love of—you too?-!"

"Sorry B-Man. Just in case, right?" Kid Flash said sheepishly.

Beast Boy grumbled something under his breath.

"I think we need to find him a girlfriend. He's getting annoying." Malchior said.

Raven grinned. "Agreed."

"Could you two at least have the decency to whisper?" Beast Boy demanded irritably.

Malchior chuckled, but his smile faded all too swiftly. He gave Raven a look like he wanted to give her one more kiss as well, just in case, but he resisted. _'Afraid I wouldn't be satisfied with a swift peck like those two.'_

She smiled and tried to send him a few spill words, but his lack of reaction told her quite clearly that he couldn't hear her. He very definitely would have responded. This was going to be annoying, wasn't it?

"Let's go."

(O)

Shadows…Rorek looked around the chamber. He looked inside his prison cell. He looked at the circle. He came to a realization.

This house was full of Blood Magic. They were using circles, a magic deeper and older than Blood Magic. This was a night for shadows, for Faal Vopraan, where the only one truly safe from their anger was the Vuldein.

Once humans had tried to determine a specific night when this happened. They noticed that it tended to happen most often during those days when autumn ended and winter began so they named a date and called it Samhain, hoping to give the shadows a hint. It didn't work. Nights like this could happen at any time of the year. But Samhain became a festival that evolved into All Saint's Day, and then the celebrations were moved to the eve instead, which was called All Hallow's Eve, now known as Halloween. The simple folk had once believed they could scare away evil spirits by dressing up as monsters and banging on things to make loud noises. In some instances this had worked. A bunch of humans all dressed up in weird masks making a great clattering ruckus would be enough to make most magical beings back away slowly and go somewhere else.

Sister Fear had claimed not to believe in the shadows. Too bad the shadows didn't care one way or the other. But Rorek couldn't help but consider this as he looked around at the prison with all its brilliant lighting and white marble. Sister Fear hadn't believed…but what about Mother Mayhem?

What would happen to them, on a night like this, if all the lights went out? Would their standing as Raven's friends protect them?

No, it probably wouldn't. Not unless she was physically with them.

"What is it?"

Rorek jerked slightly and realized he was being watched. Most of the others were milling about, talking to one another or looking for ways to amuse themselves. A few of them were napping lightly against their cells, looking up whenever there was any change in the texture of the background noise. Batman, however, was studying Rorek. "Nothing." he answered, knowing Batman would be able to see through this lie.

Batman's eyes narrowed but he didn't demand an explanation. "How far are the others?"

Rorek closed his eyes and focused. He opened them again. "They're almost here." he answered.

"But?"

But the hallway just outside the doors to their prison was dark.

Someone _knew_ the shadows were real. And they were _using_ them, believing, with some justification, that anyone walking down that dark corridor without permission and, thus, the lights, wouldn't reach the other side. Raven's standing as the Dark Keeper had to be some sort of divine intervention. Or was it? What had attacked the three Justice League members? What could take away Batman's memory and have no reaction to or from the lodestone? It wasn't Mother Mayhem. It was…

Rorek realized the truth too late.

"What? What happened?" Batman demanded, his voice so sharp that it bright everyone else's attention to the two of them.

"Glang…" Rorek murmured.

(O)

The symbols on the door looked much like the ones that had appeared on that magic breaker. Raven couldn't read them, but she could feel the pulse of that disgusting power. Somehow she knew that this door was staying shut unless those characters were removed. Malchior swore under his breath.

"So, can you get past this?" Flash asked.

"No, I can't."

"What do we do then?" asked Beast Boy.

"Simple," Malchior said, turning. "We go find another Blood Magic practitioner. Only this time we leave them alive long enough for them to open the door."

"I doubt they'll do it willingly." Kid Flash mused as they followed Malchior back down the dark hallway.

"No, they won't."

"And how are you going to make them?"

"I'm going to very convincingly make them believe that what I propose to do to them is worse than what they'll face when I kill them." he answered. "Wake up, Kid. This isn't the world of silly gimick-using madmen in stupid costumes. Do you spare a cancer when it attacks the body? Your Justice League counterpart is in that prison. If we don't get him out he'll be harvested for power. I know you don't like the idea of torture. I would prefer to avoid it myself. But sometimes there is no good choice, only a choice. And the choice we have here is forcing a Blood Magic practitioner to open that door or leaving the very people we came to save to be bled for power."

They came back out into the lighted area and stopped suddenly. Raven hadn't sensed anyone coming down this passage, but on closer inspection the figure _wasn't_ anyone. It was much too tall and lanky to begin with.

(O)

"Raven has no trouble with glang. Why are you worried?" Batman asked, frowning.

"Because there are…_other_ kinds of glang." Ophelia answered for him.

Batman looked at her. "What do you mean, _other_ kinds?"

"The glang that Sister Fear conjured up is a…lesser version. They are…" Rorek searched for a proper comparison.

"They're like plastic or Styrofoam cups. Cheap, portable, and used only once." Ophelia said. "The glass cup-version glang, the _real_ glang, are…not good. There is a stark contrast, you see. For one thing, they aren't destroyed very easily…and they can stick around long after their crafter has died."

"How do you know this?" Batman asked her.

"Because my mother took me to Schwarzwald once to hunt one down. Unfortunately I wasn't quite as immune to the psychic poison as she thought I'd be so I don't remember anything that happened. If they've got an actual glang, a _real_ glang, the kind that aren't so easily bothered by iron and lodestones, then that would explain why you lost your memory." she told him.

"Psychic poison? You mean a neurotoxin?"

"Not…really…"

(O)

Bells, laughter, shining things that glittered and gleamed with no visible source of light. There was the crisp scent and feel of ice. But he was already so chilled he wasn't sure how much colder he could get before he turned into a popsicle. The sucky part was that he only _felt_ cold. In truth his body was warm under all these blankets. He knew because he was sweating. All that meant was that nothing he did would make him any warmer or stop the shivering.

She was humming now. Some tune he didn't recognize. In his head he started hearing music. It was wonderful music, but it was only making him feel colder.

"What's the matter, Precious?" she cooed.

"I'm cold." he mumbled, keeping his eyes shut tight as though not looking at her would protect him. As though he could pretend she wasn't there…but she was. Along with the ice scent there came that _other_ scent, the one she tried so hard to cover up. But, once the nose got used to whatever perfume she wore, _that_ scent came to the forefront and there was no getting used to _it_. Especially not when she was bending over him and breathing it on him. He tried not to breathe but his body betrayed him. It needed air, though even calling this stuff 'pollution' would be an insult to respectable smog.

"You'll get used to it." she told him, stroking his cheek almost tenderly. He winced, but she took her hand back and moved away. "I wish he'd just relax. Those chattering teeth are getting on my nerves.", "Oh you can afford to be patient with him, Darling."

Red X, who had been stripped of his suit and was now Sebastian Blood, soon to be Brother Blood, felt a tear push its way out of an eye. He brushed it off as quickly and unobtrusively as he could, biting down on his tongue in the hope that physical pain would distract him. If she knew he was crying, had even shed a single tear, she'd pull him around so she could watch. She'd even pinch or slap him so he'd keep going. Then she'd giggle and call him 'Precious' again. That was one of the things that had started _after_ she went mad with Blood Magic, right along with the whole 'Precious' thing. Honestly he wasn't sure which was worse; the giggling or the 'Precious'.

He could remember the first time he ran away, before all this had started. Slade, out of mischief or something, had helped him run, had even packed a backpack for him. He got as far as this one girl's apartment before he realized he was being chased by Church of Blood lackeys. The girl, who probably wasn't any older than 17 since she had been living with her parents, hid him in her closet and fed him chips and whatever she could sneak from her kitchen. He never did understand why. All she ever said was that she had this strong feeling she shouldn't let anyone find him. She claimed that 'God' told her to do it. He hadn't believed her at first, and then one day she got another of these 'feelings' and took him to a church, an actual _church_. She snuck him in through one of the open windows and promised to bring him food. He spent a week or two there. Sleeping on pews, hiding in cupboards during the services, and somehow managing to swipe money out of the offering bowls so he could buy things from the corner store across the street.

Then one night the pastor, of all people, caught him. Red X had decided to try telling him that he had no parents, expecting to be sent to a foster home or something. Anything was better than home. To his surprise the old man had taken him to _his_ home, told the authorities his story about his dead parents, and more or less adopted him.

To say Red X hadn't been the best son or grandson in the world would have been an understatement. Looking back he was having a hard time understanding why the hell the old man had put up with him for as long as he did. It felt like the only thing the man _hadn't_ had a hard time getting him to do was go to church. Unfortunately this wasn't because he liked the service or Sunday School. It was simply because he felt _safe_ there. Like, if there was one place his witch of a mother wouldn't dare set foot in, it'd be a church.

Something must have filtered through, though. After spending years living a new life that had none of the horrors of his first nine years, Red X, who had called himself Brian (he always liked the name 'Brian' for some reason), had actually started to believe the stuff his adopted grandfather was preaching. He even did the bit where he 'got saved' and officially became a Christian. He got very spiritual and religious for a while there. He'd never seen the old man so happy.

And then…then they'd found him. He hadn't even been allowed to say goodbye to the old guy. He'd just been grabbed and dragged away.

Oh yeah, God sure did love him alright. He could just feel the love pouring down on him right now at this very moment while he was seriously considering suicide to be his only means of escaping this woman.

And yet…

Despite the cold, despite the bells and laughter and singing in his head, despite the way she was walking him around like a puppet on strings, it felt as though there was some part of him that she couldn't get to; something there that she wasn't able to take and control the way she could with practically everyone else. She could control his body, she could plant thoughts in his mind, but she couldn't take over. She couldn't change him like she had all the others. She couldn't make him think the way she wanted him to. And oh how she had tried so many times in the past. But he had gotten away each time, even if it took a year or two.

Maybe it had something to do with this whole Brother Blood mutation. That was definitely something to consider.

Managing to swipe Boy Wonder's Red X suit had been a (haha) Godsend. That baby had kept him free from the Church of Blood for _years_. It seemed a bit blasphemous to call it a 'Godsend', though, seeing as how the only way he'd been able to survive all these years was as a thief – a big no-no according to The Man. That was something no one seemed to consider about superheroes and villains. The money had to come from somewhere, and superheroing was only for those who already had money and some kind of living.

She was still trying to convince him that Raven was the hottest babe on earth or something like that. He could feel it. But, now that he knew those thoughts were coming from her, he seemed somehow able to set them aside and turn them into background noise.

He wondered what she was doing now. Something with her hair no doubt. She was probably standing in front of the mirror, making it show her that other her, the her she obviously wished she looked like with long blond hair and pale porcelain skin. Red X had once liked looking at the reflected her. That is, until one day his mother turned around to smile at him and the reflection was _still facing him_. Maybe going mad with blood magic gave you a detached reflection that could look like whatever you wanted.

It wasn't fair, though. The evil queen was supposed to have black hair, not blond. The fair princess was blond. His mother had dark red hair, which was evil enough in _that_ shade. But the reflection? Nope, no way was it right for an evil witch to have blond hair and blue eyes. Mother Mayhem was breaking _all_ the rules.

"I'll be back, Precious. I have to go say hello to your bride-to-be." she told him.

Wait, what, _bride_?-! Oh _hell_ no! "I'm too young to get married." he said desperately.

The witch patted his hair. "It can be a long engagement. We have all the time in the world." she purred.

(O)

It was human-shaped but definitely not human. It was at least 7 feet tall with a black body and a white faceless head. Its arms weren't arms at all but long tendrils that moved oddly, as though they were locks of hair in water. Its legs could have been legs but could also have been thick tendrils simply because of the odd look of them. It wasn't the only one either. There was a second one some ways behind it and to the right. This one was shorter, appeared to have actual limbs, but was just like the first in that it had a black body and a bald white head with no face. It even had what appeared to be white hands, but they were odd hands with no lines or texture. It also had something around its neck that looked very much like…a tie?

"Alright, what are these things?" Jinx asked.

"Dude! Two of them have ties! That's hilarious!" Beast Boy exclaimed. Raven looked around. There was a third one behind them and it did, indeed, have a tie as well. It also had several black smoky tendrils coming out of its back. But…but it looked, for all the world, as though it were wearing a black suit. A black suit with a tie. And it was kind of funny…but it was also kind of horrible. Raven wasn't sure how Beast Boy could be laughing at this. Then again, Beast Boy didn't have her senses and didn't know just how inhuman they really were. She _hated_ it when things that weren't human tried to look human. Those were the worst kinds of monsters in her opinion.

Malchior didn't look like he was enjoying the joke either, but seemed a bit surprised about something. Kid Flash blurred. Raven blinked. The first monster's arm tendrils had been tied together in several bows and knots. It appeared to be looking down at the bows and somehow contrived to seem surprised with absolutely no face to speak of. Malchior was surprised as well. Raven wondered why but didn't get the chance to ask.

"Holy crap! How did they get back there?-!" Jinx exclaimed, jumping behind Kid Flash and pointing down the dark hallway.

There were two more back the way they'd come. One seemed to be made entirely of branch-like limbs with its only concession to a human form being the faceless white head and a very vague torso + arms shape while the other was so tall it had to stoop even though the ceiling was at least 9 feet high. It was also extremely thin with about four arms and twice as many white hands, some of the arms bifurcated in strange places. It also had about four legs…and a tie. Raven knew these things weren't actually wearing _clothes_, so why did some of them seem to contrive to look like they did?

The one whose tendrils Kid Flash had knotted didn't appear to have any trouble untying itself. The tendrils simply flowed out of and then back into shape again.

"Well, that's kinda creepy. They can teleport?" Kid Flash asked.

"In a manner of speaking." Malchior answered, he was herding them towards a wall. "Raven, on the count of three I want you to cast the strongest barrier you can around everyone but me." he instructed.

"Um…there's more of them. You know, you haven't told us what they are yet." Beast Boy piped up.

"Glang." Malchior answered shortly. Raven didn't have time to point out that these _weren't_ the same glang that they'd faced when fighting Sister Fear, though. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

"Yes" she answered, preparing to cast her shield.

"One—"

"I wouldn't." said a new voice.

They looked down to their right where the creatures parted, not so much moving as seeming to flicker from one position to the next – as though they were animations with a very low frame rate. There was a woman there. An older woman with graying hair streaked with red that was pulled back into a tight bun. She wasn't dressed in the traditional cultist outfit. Instead she looked like a clerk or secretary with her black slacks, burgundy blouse, and tablet notebook in one arm. She was wearing a pair of wire-rim glasses and was smiling in a mild, unnerving way. She had the feel of someone who practiced Blood Magic first-hand rather than second-hand the way most of the cultists they had come across. Raven hadn't known that was possible until Malchior explained that, sometimes, a Blood Magic practitioner could give their power to another so that others could have the power but not the knowledge. Not that this stopped them learning. Blood Magic was only too easy to learn and use.

This woman seemed very familiar, though. Raven looked down at the ring on her left hand. It didn't look like it was rusting or even tarnished. This wasn't Mother Mayhem, then. So who was it?

"I must say I'm impressed." she said. "Even the Batman was screaming at this point, and he had only one to deal with. At least three of you should have passed out by now. It seems Mother Mayhem was right to let The Joker capture your friends. I assume whatever protection you have has been passed to them. But the other three, those from the Justice League, do not have such protection. And, of course, the glang do have other powers."

Beast Boy yelped and, suddenly, Raven saw him trying to fight his way out of the nest of arms and legs belonging to the one that looked like a spider. Malchior darted forward with a snarl and grabbed the wrist of the hand that was now clutching a snake-shaped Beast Boy. "Iiam Bormah dur hi!" The words were guttural and potent. Very potent. Raven could have sworn she felt the very air shift around them. Whether the glang understood or even _could_ understand or not, the words had the desired effect. The thing let go of Beast Boy and drew back. So did the rest of them. Not much but it was a noticeable step or flicker or whatever it was they did. Some of them flickered, others – the ones with the actual legs, she noticed – moved, but oddly. Like they were under water and their feet were only staying attached to the ground because they'd let out all the air in their lungs and weren't moving too much.

The Titans drew closer together, Raven and Jinx finding themselves pressed against the wall by way of instinctive masculine protectiveness despite the fact that it was Beast Boy who'd been grabbed first.

Raven let her power flow out of her body, leaching any color that was there out of the general vicinity. She spread it out as far as she could down the dark hallway and kept going until she came up against the seal. She knew her power could go further, but it stopped. It was like trying to push a mountain out of the way. She tried to go around and through the walls but some similar barrier was there as well. She couldn't get through.

"Please stop, Mistress Raven." said the woman. She was tense, and she kept glancing uncomfortably at her arm and hand. Raven had half a mind to snap her tablet into two pieces.

"_Mistress_?" Jinx hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

The glang didn't seem to like the feel of her power any more than she liked the feel of them in it. They were moving oddly, very oddly, as though trying to avoid their own shadows. Strange, had they had shadows before?

"You and your dragons may worry them but the rest of your friends will come to unfortunate ends should you decide to fight. I can send more of them to the prison with a single thought. But if you surrender now then I can promise you your friends will be well-treated."

"And harvested." Malchior snarled.

The woman waved an airy hand. "Only small portions, easily spared. You wish to eat, do you not?" she asked. "You will pay for your food with drops of blood. We ask very little for what we offer, all things considered."

"You stupid woman." Malchior hissed. "Do you honestly think that all you're taking is a sticky red liquid that moves oxygen and nutrients around the body? That it can be _paid_ for with food? This is deep magic your dealing with and you know _nothing_ about it. We'd be better off dying of starvation. We'd suffer less."

"That is entirely your choice." the woman told him crisply. She turned her attention to Raven. "Mistress Raven? If you please?"

"Why is she calling you 'Mistress'?" Jinx asked.

Raven looked up at Malchior. It didn't seem like they had a choice, here. Perhaps she could fight these glang, but perhaps there were more of them waiting in the cells for this woman's signal to attack the others. The Blood Magic was blocking her power. She wouldn't be able to save them if this were the case. Was she willing to risk it? No, she wasn't, and Malchior's spill words, the ones she caught when he tilted his head around to give them to her, only confirmed her decision. Reluctantly, she drew her power back in. Color, what color there had been, returned. The glang seemed to relax and, she noticed, their shadows disappeared.

Five more cultists appeared behind the woman. She turned and nodded to them. "They will escort you to your cells. Not you, Mistress. You will come with me."

Malchior bared his teeth, an arm going behind him to keep Raven in place. He let out a long, low growl that was almost wolf-like, but only almost. To, Raven, who knew what dragons sounded like when they spoke and swore, there was quite a lot of dragon in that growl. The glang actually drew back. That seemed to alarm the other cultists more than the growl itself. Perhaps they were wondering what could frighten a glang. Raven wondered that as well. Just what kind of glang _were_ these creatures? They were nothing like what they'd faced when they fought Sister Fear.

A popping sound came from the other side of the hall and something hit Malchior in the leg. He knelt down to yank the thing out immediately, but it was too late. Raven saw him hold up the dart with its tip so sharp it actually gave a dramatic glint in the light.

"Gotcha! HAhahAHahAhaHAhA!"

(8)

A/N: I think at this point in the story it's all going to be cliffhanger, lol!

The design of the dramatically revealed _real_ glang is not, in fact, mine. Who can tell me what they are? :D I'll give you a hint: They tend to stalk people with video cameras.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
What did he have? Hair pins. A truly intimidating weapon, but only if the victim knew just whose hair they'd been in. Oh well. Time to improvise.

As always, reviews are much appreciated. And horded. :D


	48. Mother Mayhem

A/N: Most of you got it but for those of you who don't know: The 'higher' glang are modeled after the Slenderman, which is a sort of urban legend that was started on the Something Awful forms and Creepypasta and has blown up into a bunch of other stuff such as Marble Hornets (YouTube channel, very interesting storytelling method and there are others like it) and the game Slender (free game, very scary). Both of which are incredibly creepy. Be warned, though, if you decide to look up the Slenderman watch out for those douche bags who will try to convince you he's real. Yes I know about the Der Ritter woodcut and the Der Grossman legends, but looking for the truth via careful research is not the same as pick and choosing clues to prove a preconceived idea. (Coughcarbondatingcouch)

(8)

_What am I? Who am I?_

_The dragons I hunt fear me. At first I believed this was simply because I wore the High Priest's blade; that they knew my purpose and my qualification for the act. I believed that knowledge of my strength had passed from dragon to dragon and I had become known for my prowess. Now I wonder if this is truly the case._

_Two days ago two dragons, man and woman bonded together, called upon the High Priest for reasons unknown to me. I met with them in human shape and believed myself to be both polite and respectful and yet they treated me as though I were diseased. They spoke over me, of me, and would not look me directly in the eye nor would they allow themselves to stand closer than two man-heights to me. The High Priest was enraged at their behavior and asked that I take my leave. I returned to my chambers but still I heard the roars of the dragons and many of their words reached me._

'_Putrid', they called me. 'Son of Filth', 'Child of Defilement', and other such things that I do not care to write – many of which I do not understand. My friend defended me and rebuked them with such severity that they were forced to flee the castle and much blood stained their meeting place. Yet despite the walls I have heard the words. I demanded to know what horrors my unknown past had left that I remained so ignorant of. How can the High Priest, whom I call friend, know of me and yet keep such knowledge from me? Who am I? What am I? What is this 'Putrid' thing that I was born of?_

_He refuses to tell me and I cannot bear this secrecy. I am leaving the castle. I will seek Madam Crow. If she refuses me as well then I shall seek the answers elsewhere._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 48 – Mother Mayhem**

There were stories about the glang. Lots of them, according to Ophelia. She didn't tell the stories, though.

Glang were servants of Blood Magic and there were two kinds. There was the kind made on the spot with the raw power of Blood Magic. These were the ones they had faced when fighting Sister Fear. They were the cheap, temporary kind that didn't require a whole lot of power to conjure up but were still effective. If just one latched on to you then it would start to draw your blood out of your body, absorbing it for its master.

Then there were the higher glang, the ones that Raven's team had just come face-to-face with and which were very likely what had attacked the Justice League members. Their primary weapon was their psychic poison. It got into your mind, inducing various symptoms such as fear, paranoia, hallucinations, memory loss, nightmares, and sometimes it could even go so far as to affect the body itself, causing nausea, headaches, and nose bleeds. But even without their psychic poison they were strong, swift, and had some odd powers that tended to give advanced technology quite a bit of trouble. They were not made of raw power. No. In order to make one of these, flesh was needed. Human flesh. Malleable flesh. _Young_ flesh. And they could linger long after their master's death because they had a kind of sentience. In other words, they were able to hunt and feed themselves.

This wasn't what Ophelia told them, though. She didn't tell them what the higher glang were made of. Instead she went right on into explaining what tended to happen when their master died. This being that they would typically try to find a new master. Unfortunately (or fortunately) the only kind of individual that could become a glang's master was a Blood Magic practitioner. That didn't stop them from searching, though. And, more often than not, the one they chose became a victim because the poison got them. These were sometimes the worst cases. The glang were only semi-sentient, after all. And so they would stalk their chosen masters, waiting for orders that would never come, causing severe mental trauma and often driving these victims to suicide.

Rorek didn't know where she'd heard that, though, because it wasn't true. At all. The higher glang could pick and choose whom their poisons affected. They did not actively seek out masters and their victims were victims by no accident. But, back then; no one had wanted to believe the truth. They preferred this version; that the higher glang were wholly aimless without a master. The truth seemed to indicate a malevolent nature. And no one wanted to speculate too much about what such a thing could mean. Golems were not supposed to have any nature or purpose that was not given to them. And glang were classified as golems. What else could they be?

Ophelia was pretty sure that Mother Mayhem hadn't made the glang they'd seen but had simply collected them. She stopped there because Flash, the adult Flash, appeared to be getting more and more frightened the more she calmly explained. It didn't seem to comfort him a whole lot to know that it was the poison making him so scared. The other two Justice League members seemed quite calm, though. Perhaps they were simply better at fighting the poison. Or better at dealing with their fear.

But why was it the Teen Titans had been immune? Rorek couldn't understand that. The last reaction you'd expect when facing the glang was a laugh, and yet Beast Man had snickered at the fact that some of them appeared to be wearing ties. They had been surrounded by no less than five higher glang. But not even Jinx – who was already scared enough as it was of this cult – had collapsed in terror or suffered so much as a headache. Had it been the rings that protected them? That was possible, but he couldn't be certain. Of course, there _were_ cases of humans who could fight the poison, but he wasn't aware of any that were completely immune. _Was_ it the rings? Iron did not worry the higher glang, but these were not ordinary rings.

Back when he'd been a knight, it was the Dovah and the Furies who hunted down and destroyed the glang. Furies: Because something in their altered biology protected them. The Dovah, and certain humans: Because of the Thu'um. No one was quite sure why, but even if all you had was the power chant, often called the Litany of Maartuz by humans, then they could not touch your mind. This did not mean they were powerless against you at this point. Oh no. They could do serious physical damage as well. It was simply that you could fight back if you were able to resist the poison.

A particularly powerful practitioner could only handle one or two at a time. Something like Mother Mayhem, however, could have a dozen under such control that she could delegate their command to someone else.

And that woman now had Raven.

There were no words to describe the feeling of hopelessness and dread that washed over him in wave after wave as this realization sank in. He envied Malchior his slumber. His very body felt numb with shock and despair. The others tried to comfort him but it wouldn't work. Beast Man insisted that Raven was going to save the day and come bursting through that door any time now, but this was too much to hope for. Nightwing tried to remind him how powerful she was, but what good was power if she could not use it because they were being held as hostages?

Damien still had not been returned. That was worrying. They thought, perhaps, he was being harvested for blood but he had been gone for far too long. Now Rorek was wondering if he was being questioned for information about Azarath instead.

"You're certain there's no way out of these circles?" Batman asked, breaking through his numbed thoughts.

Rorek looked up. "They can be broken, yes. But I do not know how. And this is not something one can figure out through trial and error. It would not be enough for you to draw a line about your enemy an expect him to be trapped. You must know what you are doing or it does not work." he explained. "I could try any number of things and one of them might be the right option, but unless I knew this for a fact then it would not work. Does that make sense?"

"It sounds something like an encryption code with a shifting clear-text." Batman said.

"I am afraid you have lost me." Rorek told him.

"Encryption codes are what keep digital information on the Internet from being readily accessible or easy to read. The clear-text is what decryption programs use to confirm that they have successfully decoded the message. Shifting clear-text would make it impossible for anyone who does not know the password to decrypt the code. At least it would if it existed." Batman explained.

"I am not very well-versed in technology so I still do not understand what you are talking about. I am sorry."

"Never mind. What I'm saying is I think I understand what you mean." Batman summarized.

"Ah. Good."

Some of the others were sleeping, but most were unable to sleep despite Batman's insistence that they would be no good to anyone if they were dead tired. Flash was sleeping, though he was doing it outside of his cell on the marble floor – which, he vouchsafed, was more comfortable than the bed. He was emitting slight snorting and snoring noises with his mouth wide open. Rorek wished he could sleep. But every time he laid down his mind conjured up horrible scenarios about what might be happening or about to happen to Raven. He knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he had her in his arms and knew she was safe.

Batman looked like he wanted to say something more but he was interrupted by a roar that erupted from the one cell with its door still closed. The door was broken clean off the cell by the force of what was revealed to be the cell's sink having been thrown at it so hard that both items hit the barrier of the circle and bounced, the door cracked into two pieces and the sink actually left fissures in the marble floor.

"Malchior's awake." Ophelia announced unnecessarily. More sounds of destruction, snarls, curses, and roars that could not possibly have been issue from a true human's lungs were emerging from the cell. Various bits of whatever was inside flew out of the door. Then one of the marble walls started to crack. A fork of flame flickered out of the doorway.

The din went on for quite a while. By the time it was done every wall was cracked, one actually had a small hole in, and all of the amenities that had been provided for that cell – exempting the sink – were in pieces no larger than a fist. Not even the pipes had been spared.

Finally, though, the rage ran out and Malchior collapsed in a corner where no one could see him despite the hole and broken door.

There was a dead silence for five whole minutes. No one was asleep anymore. Finally it was Beast Man who broke it. "Uh, hey Malchior? I know you're really mad that they took Raven and everything – if I were you I would be too – but it's not like she's helpless or anything. She's not going to let them get away with it. You'll see. I mean, remember when Slade kidnapped the kids and we all thought she was walking into a trap but when we got there she was actually beating everyone up?"

"I don't think you quite understand, Beast Man." Rorek said. "It is not simply that they took Raven; it is more that Malchior was made powerless to stop them. We are…old-fashioned. Often our ways of thinking are driven by instinct, and in this case instinct says that it is our duty as males is to protect our female. Malchior failed to do so, and now we are both utterly incapable of doing anything to help her. We cannot see her, we cannot speak to her, we do not know where she is, what is happening to her, what will happen to her, or even if she is still alive." he explained.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Back up a second. Are you both after Raven or something?" Flash asked.

"They're both the same _person_, you numbskull. Weren't you listening when Batman explained?" Green Lantern demanded.

"Uh…well yeah but um…I didn't really understand any of it." he answered uncomfortably.

"We are silfron. Brothers in the soul. We are no more capable of loving more than a single woman than we would be if we were of one body." Rorek told him.

"You really are old-fashioned, then, aren't you? I've had as many as five dates in one day, myself." Flash said, acting, for all the world, as though this were something to be proud of.

Rorek narrowed his eyes, giving the man a look of such disgust that the Flash actually seemed to shrink. "Dragons are monogamous. One male, one female. This is Law so deep it is in our very bones. A human in our situation might be capable of loving one woman for each body, but we are not so…_fortunate_." he sneered.

"Geeze, I'm sorry. I didn't know, okay? Lighten up a little." Flash said, holding his hands up in supplication. "I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world or anything."

"Ummm…"

(O)

She had introduced herself as Mirabelle McPherson and she had done so with an eager little smile that suggested she expected a reaction. She didn't get it. Even if Raven did remember where she'd heard that name before, she'd locked herself up. All emotions had been set aside, removed from thoughts and face. It was not the safest state to be in. If she wasn't careful she could very well have her arm chopped off and only notice when she attempted a task she couldn't perform with one hand. But it was necessary. If she hadn't locked herself down she would have become The Other and ripped The Joker's head off after Malchior slumped to the ground. She didn't want to think about what the cult might do to the Titans or the Justice League if she'd done that. Especially since it wouldn't have stopped with The Joker.

But even now, as Mirabelle led her away from her friends, she could feel The Other raging within the confines of her emotional lock-down. And The Joker wasn't helping.

"You know, being a villain with no special superpowers of my own, isn't it funny that I'm the one who managed to take down the big strong dragons?"

Raven didn't even look 'round. She kept her eyes on the tight bun of Mirabelle's hair. On the inside, though, she was playing jump-rope with The Joker's intestines. The non-emotion-driven thought that came up was, _Wasn't it Madam Rouge who shot the dart that took down Rorek?_ Apparently The Joker had decided to take the credit.

A moment of silence passed. It didn't last long enough.

"To be honest, I didn't expect Prince Charming to be so easily fooled. But he did seem a bit out of sorts already. Did you two have a _fiiiight_?"

More silence. And walking.

"Lucky for me it was Prince Charming, too. From what I hear, Fire Breath is all 'gut first and ask questions later'. You know what I find funny? Lingering over a kill is something us bad guys do! I mean, where's the fun in a quick kill? Kinda makes you wonder which one of them is really the bad one, doesn't it?"

…

"Really? Nothing to that?"

She kept her eyes staring straight ahead.

"You're as bad as Batsy."

"I would not bait Her Ladyship if I were you. Should her awakened self remember it, you may find yourself in some difficulty." Mirabell warned, a little too late in the circumstances.

'Awakened self'? What did that mean?

"Oh I'm sure me and Her Royal Demonic-ness will get along like a house on fire!" he said cheerfully, throwing an arm over Raven's shoulders. Mirabelle glanced over her shoulder, saw this, and stopped walking abruptly. Then one of the glang wrapped its long-fingered 'hand' around The Joker's neck.

"I don't care how much Mother Mayhem likes you and I don't care that she lets you get away with practically anything; you are not permitted to touch Mistress Raven. Do you understand?"

The Joker had already removed his arm from Raven's shoulders. He gave Mirabelle a nervous grin. "Sure thing. No touchy. Got it." The glang let him go. When Mirabelle's back was turned The Joker stuck out his tongue. Then he pulled out a sharpie and drew a smiley face on the glang where a face would be if it had one. The creature neither stopped him nor did it seem to care.

So, if she was the 'Mistress' here, then how come Mirabelle was giving the orders? Probably because she wasn't her 'awakened self'. So what was her 'awakened self'? That was worrying. Was there some other part of her that she didn't know about? Something more monstrous than The Other? A her with red skin, white hair, and yellow eyes that would destroy the world in her father's place…?

They came to a chamber as large and expansive as the ballroom, but one half of it was taken over with an enormous circular column. As they drew near, Raven saw a set of white marble double-doors leading inside the huge pillar. Everything was white marble. It dawned on Raven that this had to have been done with magic. There was no way anyone could build all of this by hand or even machine. Not underground. It was impressive, right up until the point when she realized what source of power must have been used. That heavily tainted the entire thing.

A further decrease in proximity revealed an even arch of salt on the ground that, no doubt, continued down and about the length of the column, forming a complete circle. One that she could step into but not out of. Mirabelle carefully reached across the circle without touching it or stepping over it and opened one of the marble doors for her.

"Merely a temporary precaution, Mistress." the woman told her. "It will be removed when you have been awakened. You are not in your right mind, you see. You may think you are, but this human state of being is not a natural thing for you."

Natural? _Natural_? Well no, it wasn't natural. It was _natural_ for humans to beat each other over the head with big sticks. It was _natural_ for dragons to burn down villages. It was _natural_ for predators to kill, for the powerful to oppress, and for gods to toy with mortals. Just because something was natural that didn't make it right. But Raven kept her silence. She stepped over the line of salt when Mirabelle gestured her to and entered the column. She turned and momentarily regarded the line of salt.

"_An edge breaks the circle."_

An edge…

The door was closed, leaving Raven to look about the prison she had been provided with. As prisons went it was a nice one. Heck, it was pretty nice even for a room in a mansion. The walls of the column had to be at least three feet thick but still it was a spacious area despite the lavish decor. The curving walls were covered with black velvet curtains, the floor had a thick carpet patterned with multiple dark colors – mostly blues and violets – the furniture looked very plush, there was light coming from hanging crystals, and along the curving wall to her right there was a set of stairs leading up to a second story. It had a very ornate banister.

The back part of the circular room was cut off from the rest by a wall, creating a level surface for bookshelves. There was a door, though, and it revealed a bathroom as opulent as the rest of the room. The tub was big enough to swim in! Not very much, but it was incredibly wide and deep.

She left it, though, and went upstairs. Here the room took over the entire circle of the column so there was a lot of space despite the enormous bed, statues, wardrobe, mirror, and the life-sized mannequin wearing a long, flowing white dress with golden embroidery and ornamentation that glittered with precious stones of all colors. It was obviously meant for her. It wasn't a wedding dress, though. Not specifically, anyway. It had no veil, for one thing, and the style was unfamiliar. It seemed a bit Greek or Roman but form-fitting and elaborate. Part of her kind of wanted to try it on. It was incredibly beautiful, and Raven's long hair was a testament to the fact that she had an inner girliness that was slowly being allowed some breathing space in her soul. But this definitely wasn't the right sort of situation to be thinking like that.

She searched the room, looking for anything at all, trying to bully her brain into coming up with an idea or plan. She had to get out of here and get to the others and she had to do it so that no one knew she'd escaped. But how? She couldn't get through the circle. There had to be something…

Would the Church of Blood be able to tell the difference between the demon they wanted and The Other? Was there a difference? Would they be able to detect that The Other wasn't entirely in control? How were they going to try and convince her to become the demon? Was it going to be by way of cunning argument…or Blood Magic?

Raven shivered slightly. Suddenly the place felt chilly. And she was slowly becoming aware of a smell…and a feeling. The smell was quite pleasant at first. It was lavender, but with an extra something that slowly and steadily grew more prominent until the pleasant part of the scent evaporated and the primary smell made her want to gag. Sweet Maartuz, had something died in here? It was _awful_.

And then there was a feeling. That was bad too, worse because, as she got used to the stench, she became aware of what this feeling indicated.

There was someone downstairs. Waiting for her.

Raven looked down at her left hand. The ring, which had once been shiny enough it looked like silver, was now a dark, dull gray. The ring on her right hand was still shiny and pristine, though.

So, Mother Mayhem had arrived. Rorek had told her not to challenge Mother Mayhem. Well, no, he'd told her to that _he_ would be fighting her. But he wasn't here. Raven was utterly alone.

She took a deep breath and put herself back under emotional lockdown. She knew her fear was there and it was powerful. But she had set it aside. It was difficult to separate thought and emotion. You couldn't do it completely; emotions were translated into thoughts, thoughts gave rise to emotion. But what you _could_ do was take what was emotion and set it outside yourself so that you were still aware of it, but it would not affect you. If she needed to, she could pick and choose the emotions to bring out.

Alright, this was about as ready as she was going to be. Prepared for the worst, and with no idea what to do – if anything – Raven descended the steps to face Mother Mayhem.

(O)

Red X didn't know whose room he'd been shoved into. Not his own, surely. There were way too many mirrors and, despite earlier claims, Red X wasn't a big fan of his own face. He much preferred the mask that had given him his new name and identity. Funny, though. He hadn't started to dislike his face until he had started wearing the mask. It was like the mask had become his real face somehow. Like, when he had the mask on, it felt like one self was locked away and another, a deeper self, came out instead. He couldn't explain it, but he only liked looking at himself when he was in the suit.

This had to be some spare room of his mother's, though. Either her or Mirabelle. They were both big fans of hair pins, after all (though Mother Mayhem tended to wear her hair down when she wanted to impress). And the drawers in the vanity desk had lots of hairpins.

Contrary to popular belief, hair pins do _not_ make very good lock picks. Modern hair pins, for instance, had those little rubber things on the ends to stop the sharp tips from piercing skin when they were accidentally jammed into the skull. That was a bit cumbersome in your average house lock. For another, they tended to be made of that 'I Can't Believe It's Not Metal' plastic these days that breaks instead of bends. You had to be really good to pick a modern lock with a modern hairpin.

So it was a good thing that Red X was really good, wasn't it? It was also nice that Mother Mayhem and Mirabelle still bought the expensive pins that were made of real metal. He did have a job getting those plastic tips off, but once that was done and he had a few not-really-lock-picks-but-I've-got-nothing-better he got to work on the door's lock.

It was about five minutes before he realized the bolts were all on the _inside_. He blamed his mother for his stupidity. He was always out of sorts after she tried messing with his head. At least the cold went away when she did. He unlocked the bolts and opened the door.

There was a glang on the other side. He stared at it; it stared at him despite its lack of eyes. It was about 8 feet tall and looked like it was wearing a suit with a tie – though Red X knew that was actually part of its body. It regarded him stoically and without expression, not that this was at all impressive. Raven was far better at being expressionless, the reason being it was easy to have no expression when you had no face. Raven could do it with a full set of features.

A minute or two passed, then Red X gave the glang an unpleasant grin.

He remembered when Mother Mayhem had found the first one and decided to start collecting. For some reason practically everyone was scared stiff of these things. Red X couldn't understand why, though. Sure it was kinda creepy having something that was too tall and not nearly broad enough looking at you without any eyes to speak of, but this one had a tie for the love of cripes! An actual _tie_. Well, not an _actual_ tie, but it looked like one. Couldn't anyone else spot how stupid that was? What, was it getting ready for a job interview or something? Did it think it was with the MIB? Alright, so not all of them had bodies that looked as suit-like as this one, but still!

But he'd pretended to be scared of them if only to fit in. He wasn't, though. Even after he saw what they could do, it seemed to him that there was something about _him_ they couldn't even touch. He didn't know what it was, could be the whole Brother Blood mutation thing again, but even Mother Mayhem hadn't caught on to this little fact. If she had, then she would have done more to keep him in his room than station a glang on the other side of the door.

He took a step forward. The glang stepped back. He stepped all the way out of the room. The glang moved to avoid touching him. He closed the door behind him and started walking down the hall. The glang resumed its place in front of the door.

_Oh yeah, who's awesome?_ he thought, grinning. That little victory felt good. He hadn't been feeling very awesome lately and now Mother Mayhem was probably going to go even more nuts than she already was trying to figure out how he'd escaped.

Now…where was he? More importantly, where was his suit? They wouldn't have destroyed it. Belligerent as he was, he was still the to-be Brother Blood. So it was probably in a vault or something.

Well, if it were easy then anyone could do it. What did he have? Hairpins. A truly intimidating weapon, but only if the victim knew just whose hair they'd been in. Oh well. Time to improvise.

(O)

_SCHANG! SCHANG! SCHANG! SCHANG!_

"Dude! Do you mind?-! What are you _doing_?-!" Flash yelled. Rorek was the only one who heard him, though. Everyone else had their hands covering their ears in an attempt to block out the sound of Malchior hitting the ground with the polished marble sink that had been in his cell. It was very loud. Soon enough, though, the sink shattered. Malchior kicked the pieces out of his way and began resuming his pounding with his fists. The sound from this wasn't nearly as sharp, however. There was a very sizeable crack forming in the ground around him.

"What is he doing?" Batman asked Rorek since Malchior wasn't answering anyone's questions.

"I am…not sure." Their connection was hard enough to get anything through with both of them in circles and Malchior's mind was so consumed with a chaos of angry thoughts and the sharp focus of a single purpose that finding the reason _for_ his desire to break the ground was a bit difficult. Eventually, though, Rorek thought he figured it out. His eyes went wide. "Oh…"

"What? What is it?" Green Lantern asked.

"Why is Friend Malchior trying to destroy the ground?" Starfire elaborated.

"He is not. He is trying to destroy the circle." Rorek answered. And he intended to do it by creating a crack in the floor for the salt to fall through. Their power and person may be confined within the circle, but they _could_ still affect the ground the circle had been drawn on. Hmmm…

It wouldn't work, though. The marble was too thick and too sturdy. Malchior's cracks could be made deep enough that they reached the ceiling of the floor below them and yet there would not be width enough in them for the salt to fall through. What he needed to do was somehow break off a bit of the surface marble, ideally a bit that was both on this side of the circle and that side, and then he could remove the salt by removing the shard the salt was sitting in.

Rorek knelt down next to his own circle and slammed his fist into the ground. Hairline cracks appeared. He did it again and again, hitting the same spot, not aiming to crack but to create a crater of some kind. About fifteen minutes later and the cracks were starting to reach the salt. It was a slow process, but it seemed to be working.

"Hey! I see what you're doing! That's brilliant!" Ophelia exclaimed. Then she, too, began punching the ground next to her salt with her gauntlet-clad fists. "Starfire, start trying to destroy the ground around the salt!" she called.

"Yes!" Starfire said, shooting eye lasers at a spot next to her salt.

It was working. Slowly, but it was working. Once one of them was free then they could free everyone else. There was hope!

Rorek tried not to think about how they were going to get out of the sealed doors afterwards. Regardless, if they could get out of the circles then they would at least be together. They at least had a chance.

(O)

She was wearing what looked to have started out as the long white robes that the late Brother Blood had worn but was taken up by the stereotypical female desire to look good and show off one's figure. It was form-fitting but with wide flowing sleeves and skirt. The neck ornamentation had been shrunk down so much that it was a black gold-bordered V over the chest. There the same horned head design that had decorated Brother Blood stood out, embroidered in gold with red eyes that matched the color of Mother Mayhem's long curly red hair.

She was young and beautiful, at least in appearance. She looked way too young to be Red X's mother. Raven was pretty sure he was in his early 20s, at least. She wasn't sure she wanted to speculate on how Mother Mayhem had gone about obtaining eternal (or, at the very least, long-lasting) youth, though.

The smell was bad. _Really_ bad. But she could ignore it in this state. That was lucky. She was pretty sure gagging and holding her nose wouldn't go over too well with this woman. But she kept herself calm and regarded Mother Mayhem dispassionately from the shadow of her hood and the feeble protection her cloak might give her. It was made of the same spider silk that her bodysuits were made from with a titanium alloy that made it very resistant to extreme temperatures and low-level blasts of energy. But she had a feeling that this wasn't going to do her a whole lot of good.

Mother Mayhem smiled. "Do you like the dress, Dear?" she asked.

Raven didn't answer.

No 'Mistress Raven' from Mother Mayhem, it seemed. Was this a good sign or a bad one?

The woman's smile did not falter at Raven's silence. She'd probably expected a resentful attitude. "I know you are upset about your friends, but it is necessary. Why don't you go try on the dress? You want to, don't you?"

Raven remained impassive. Inside her cloak she fingered the iron ring on her left hand. It felt gritty and bits of it were flaking off. It was starting to irritate her finger.

Mother Mayhem's smile faltered a little this time. "Go try on your dress, do." she tried again. Raven neither moved nor spoke. Mother Mayhem's eyes narrowed. "Don't you want to? Even a little?" she asked.

Well she _had_ wanted to try it on, but now she didn't even want to touch it. What was so important about that dress? She hadn't felt any magic from it.

And then Mother Mayhem brightened up, "You know, I think we've been wrong about you. If you were as human as they think then you'd be a lot easier to influence. Good. That will make this a bit easier. No, Darling, don't be fooled. She's wearing some of those silly rings."

Raven blinked. Something…changed there. Mother Mayhem's voice was still her own, her face was still her own, but somehow, between two of those sentences, she was different. There was a different set to her jaw, a different look in her eye; even her posture seemed to subtly change. The smile she was now giving Raven was different as well. It was…_strange_.

"Take them off." the new Mother Mayhem instructed. There was even a different tone to her voice. "If you don't, we'll go have some fun with the little alien girl you like so much. And I'll make sure everyone gets to watch."

The worst part was that she was still smiling.

She had no choice, did she? Raven took off the rusting ring on her left hand and then the Nibelungen ring on her right, putting them both in her belt.

"Good girl. Now, why don't you go try on your dress? We really want to see how it looks on you."

You didn't need Blood Magic to control someone, Raven considered as she walked back up the stairs. All you needed was to have someone they loved at your mercy.

As slowly as she dared, Raven took off her costume, put it in her belt, and then began the rather cumbersome task of trying to figure out how to get the dress off the mannequin and on her. Eventually she gave up and used magic.

It was a very good fit. It showed off what her bodysuit typically hid with a neckline that, while not too terribly low, still made it very apparent to the world just how female she really was. It felt a bit awkward in the hip department, but that was only because she'd kept her belt on and had to adjust a few things to make sure the skirt hid it. It was a very beautiful dress. Not so elaborate, it left much of its ornamentation to the jewelry that was draped around her neck, her wrists, in her ears, on her fingers, and even sewn into the gown itself. The general shape of it was one that had started out sleek and form-fitting with a long skirt that gradually flared out so that it rippled about her ankles, and then a few more skirts had been added. The sleeves were the kind that were short but wide and synched so that the shape felt a bit like wings, leaving everything from the elbow down bear. Presumably so that there would be plenty of room for the ridiculous amount of bracelets. It came with a pair of heeled slippers that were covered in shards of what looked like sapphire and amethyst. The effect was stunning, but Raven's cynicism couldn't stop her from thinking that glitter would have worked just as well so what was the point? Even if they were shards of glass it was a bit excessive. In fact, it was _all_ excessive. The dress had to cost a fortune. Several fortunes at least. And it fit so well…

But the white clashed with the gray hue of her skin. The colors of her hair and her ajna chakra simply did not work despite the rainbow of colors in the stones. Many of them were opals glittering with many colors all at once. Still, this was a dress for someone with peach skin, blond hair, and blue eyes.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were dispassionate but deep down some part of her was thoughtfully considering what life might have been like as a normal teenage girl. She knew about high school in a vague, disconnected way. So…what would it have been like to dress up like this for prom or something? What would it have been like to be a sorceress in the courts of Rorek's millennia and dress up like this all the time? Would Rorek have noticed her back then when there were so many other sorceresses to choose from?

No, probably not. She was very plain, wasn't she? The dress was wonderful, but…look at her. Her skin was gray, _gray_. By no stretch of the imagination was that an attractive color.

Raven blinked. Was it her imagination, or had her reflection shifted? Yes, it had. Her skin had taken on a porcelain hue and, right before her eyes, her hair was changing. It was becoming thicker, she was growing taller; her hair lengthened and began to curl at the ends. It was also changing color. First it turned black, and then it lightened into a shimmering golden blond. The ajna chakra disappeared, her face altered, becoming angular with high cheek bones framed so very attractively with thick wavy blond hair. Her eyes changed as well, becoming a gorgeous shade of light blue. Her favorite shade of light blue; kinda similar to the color of Rorek's eyes.

The mirror her smiled, but she was no longer Raven. Perhaps she was wearing the same dress but…Raven blinked. The dress did not change, but all at once the woman was no longer an altered Raven. She was simply another woman. She was also wearing an elaborate headdress that matched the ornate jewelry that Raven herself was now wearing. Raven stared up at her, feeling very small and ugly. This woman was incredibly beautiful. _Very_ beautiful. She was…_shiny_. Yeah, that was a good word. Especially for her hair. It glittered as if it had stars in it.

"Wouldn't you like to be beautiful, like me?" a voice asked. The mirror woman held out a hand to her. "The fire will die eventually. What you have is the flighty love of youth and what will happen when it dies out? Men are flighty. They see your face every day and they forget how beautiful you are so they look for that beauty in others. They look elsewhere for the fire."

The mirror's image swam, showing Raven what looked to be a table in the Wax Ribbon where Rorek was sitting with another woman. Since it was the Wax Ribbon this was very likely a sorceress and an experienced one. You could tell because she didn't bother with much jewelry or makeup and her clothes, despite how good they looked on her, still appeared to have been chosen for comfort rather than style. She appeared to be Italian in descent, with thick black curls, thick eyelashes, olive skin, and full red lips. She was very pretty. She was smiling at Rorek in a way that made Raven very uncomfortable. Then the woman reached over and pulled down Rorek's scarf, revealing a faint smile on his own face.

_I don't have to believe that._ Raven told herself. It was a good thing she had so much control over her emotions at the moment. It _felt_ so very real.

Then the shining woman returned. "But the future can be changed." the woman assured her consolingly. "You can become like me. I can show you everything; give you everything you could want. Together we could hunt down that woman and kill her before either of them ever sees her. And they will always love you. No one else will ever be as beautiful as you, or as smart as you, or as powerful as you." She held her hand out to Raven. "All you have to do is let me out."

Her voice was like music. Raven thought she heard the sound of gently chiming bells, and there was laughter.

On the other hand, what if that _was_ the future?

"I don't know how…" Raven's mouth said. Hang on, had she told it to say that? Was she actually considering this?

"You do. You learned it as a child along with most other humans. A spell, a powerful spell, hidden in a story. You know the story, don't you?"

Raven's mouth began to shape the words, "Mirror, mirror…" she stopped. She wanted to help this woman, wanted to trust her (no she didn't! What was she thinking? Who was thinking for her?). But…

_Look at her eyes. Look her in the eye. Look hard!_

Raven stared at the woman's face, and then focused on her ice-blue eyes. She'd been wrong to compare them to Rorek's eyes. They weren't like his at all.

'_You are nothing.'_ they said. _'You are worse than nothing, you are a bit of dust under a microscopic lens and I will look at you for as long as you amuse me. Amuse me enough and perhaps you might be a pet. Or perhaps not. And the choice is not yours. You have no choice. You are mine because you are a thing.'_

And, suddenly, she knew what this woman was. She looked down at her hand and realized it was almost touching the mirror. She drew back, horrified.

Those blue eyes narrowed and the smile was suddenly very unpleasant indeed. She said something in a language that Raven didn't understand. It sounded like a swear or a command. Raven drew back further until her hip found the table. She looked at it, saw a golden candlestick holder sitting in the middle for decoration, and hurled it at the mirror. It shattered, and the image vanished completely.

A voice tut-tutted behind her. Raven whirled around. Mother Mayhem was looking at her with an expression very much like what the woman in the mirror had worn. "Really, Dear. Don't you know better than to break mirrors? That's bad luck." she said.

It was Mother Mayhem's voice, Mother Mayhem's face and body, but somehow it _felt_ like it was the god as well. Raven looked her in the eye. Yes, it was the same look. As though Raven should feel honored to have a place at the bottom of her shoe.

"I don't believe in luck." Raven heard herself saying. "People only said a broken mirror was 7 years' bad luck because that's how long it took to pay for them way back when."

She wasn't sure why she'd said that. Perhaps just for something to say. It seemed an innocent enough thing to point out, but for some reason Mother Mayhem gave her a very ugly look, like she'd just insulted her. "Don't do that, Young One." she said coolly. "It's unbecoming."

Obviously she didn't like being corrected.

"We shall…let you think about things, shall we?" Mother Mayhem said. Then her demeanor changed again. She smiled. "I shall send someone to clean up the glass." she said. "Try not to break any more mirrors. It really is unlucky."

Only when she was gone did Raven allow herself to truly contemplate the horror of what just happened…and what she'd almost done.

Mother Mayhem was helping the gods…and Raven had almost set one of them free.

So that was how they knew so much about dragons; about Malchior and Rorek. Mother Mayhem was actively and knowingly helping a Tartarian god!

She had to get out of here, _now_. But how? How could she get around the circle? How did Mother Mayhem get through the circle? Raven hadn't dared follow her to watch and see. Probably someone stood on the other side and held out a hand to bring her back out. You could stretch part of your body into the circle without being trapped so long as something stayed on the other side. But that didn't help her. No one was going to let _her_ out until she had 'Awakened'.

"_An edge breaks the circle."_

Without being entirely sure what she was doing, Raven took the Damascus steel knife that Rorek had bought her out of her belt. She looked at it, and she _knew_. She knew _exactly_ how to break the circle.

A plan began to form in her mind. She would have to wait a while before she began because it would only work if Mother Mayhem didn't show up. Unfortunately, it would also work better if she kept the dress on. First, though, she _had_ to change the color. White only worked for her if the outfit was simple. Black, on the other hand…

(8)

A/N: For those of you wondering what happened to Harley Quinn…I think she sort of disappeared. It occurs to me that The Joker probably left her behind and she legged it as soon as she woke back up.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
They gave me cookies!

This week has been CRAZY BUSY. I was literally working 10+ hour days earlier this week. Thursday was the first day I only had to work 9 [0]_[0] . Lucky I have all the chapters of Circles already written and are simply in (desperate) need of editing or I might not be able to update at all. I thought about skipping this Sunday's chapter for some breathing space but decided not to since this is probably the absolute worst part of the story to do that in. Instead I'm just going to have to take a few weeks of off time between Circles and the sequel, whose name I shall announce—right now! It's going to be called Knots.

See ya'll Sunday! And please review. I could really use them right now…(finds somewhere quiet to have a nervous breakdown)

Cat: Don't worry, she's just overreacting.

PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME WORK ANOTHER SATURDAY! I NEED THAT SATURDAY! THE BAGS UNDER MY EYES ARE DARK ENOUGH TO BEGIN WITH! WAAAAAAA!

Cat: She'll be completely over it once the paycheck from all this comes in.


	49. Willing Sacrifice

A/N: I didn't have to work yesterday! Yay! Tomorrow's going to be another rough day though…

(8)

_Madam Crow was silent and so I sought Hrist, journeying once more into the colder north, certain that she would know. She did, I could feel it, and yet she too would not tell me who I was. She told me that it did not matter, that I had been given the chance to be other than what I was and the memories I did not have would torment me. She counseled that I should return to the High Priest and try to live as I have but I cannot! I must know! And if those I saw as my friends refuse to tell me then I shall ask of those who are not my friends._

_I have heard tell of a dragon who has repeatedly challenged the High Priest for his position and the favor of Iiam Bormah. I shall find him. If those who have love for me refuse to give me the truth then those who have no love for me shall undoubtedly do the opposite. I do not doubt he will give me the truth. I am sure the truth will be far worse than any lie he might care to craft._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 49 – Willing Sacrifice**

Ophelia was the first to break her circle and she lost no time rushing over to Rorek to kick the salt out of line. Rorek then freed Flash who freed two people before he accidentally ran inside Nightwing's circle without breaking it first. Batman put his hands over his eyes and sighed. Then Kid Flash was freed and, learning from his predecessor's mistake, he did _not_ trap himself in another's circle but had everyone else out in seconds. Malchior went straight for the doors to investigate the seal.

Rorek took six rings from his subspace pocket and held his hand out to Batman first. "Take two. Put one on each of your middle fingers, preferably touching the skin." he said. Batman did so and Green Lantern came over to get some as well.

"Does it have to be on our middle fingers? I've already got a ring there." Green Lantern said, showing him.

"It is a preferable position. I would simply have one finger with two rings if I were you. They are not cumbersome." Rorek answered.

"Flash, get over here." Batman called. He handed Flash the last two rings. "Put these on."

"They kind of clash."

"_Under_ your gloves."

"Right, right. So, what's the plan? We blast our way out and go rescue Raven, right?" Flash asked.

"It's not going to be that easy." Ophelia said grimly.

"Yeah I was afraid of that." said Nightwing. "Does it have anything to do with those weird red markings on the doors over there?"

"I am afraid so." Rorek answered. "But, at the very least, we are now together and not quite so vulnerable."

"How do we get through?" Batman asked.

"We _can't_." Malchior answered, returning to the group. "That is an incredibly potent seal. I think even hellfire would have some trouble with it. These people weren't taking chances." he snarled.

That left only one other option.

"So…we wait for someone to open the doors, tackle them, and get out?" Flash asked.

"I don't think we have that kind of time." Batman answered. He was looking at something some ways beyond the group. "Especially not now. They know we're free."

"Ah!" Green Lantern jumped. He wasn't the only one.

"It's got _tentacles_!" Flash exclaimed.

"It's wearing a _tie_! How is that scary?" Beast Man demanded.

"It isn't when you're somehow immune to the poison." Ophelia answered, drawing her sword and preparing to fight.

Malchior got their first, however. He grabbed the glang by the neck and bashed its head into the wall a few times to relieve some of his anger. Then he growled out the word, '**Yol**', which hit the glang with a flame that engulfed it and burned black. It only lasted a few seconds; like the thing was made of paper. A pile of gray salt was all that remained when it was done.

"Well that was…effective…" Green Lantern observed weekly.

"Probably because of the power behind it." Ophelia mused. "You don't think the Thu'um would work on those doors?"

"No, it would not." Rorek answered with regret.

"But it worked against the glang." Nightwing argued.

"The glang are also immune to iron and lodestones. My point is that one aspect of a magic is not always going to have the same properties as another despite the shared magic." Rorek told him.

Malchior returned to the gathering. "The Batman is right. They will not open the doors now. They will simply let us starve."

"So that's it? There's _nothing_ we can do? We're still trapped?" Cyborg asked.

"What if we just broke down the walls?" Flash asked.

Green Lantern pointed his fist at the wall and a beam of green light that was very similar to spellfire shot from the ring on his middle finger. It took the form of some sort of siege engine. He used it to wail on the marble several times before he stopped. "Not even a crack. What is that stuff _made_ of?" he demanded.

"Look at it. Have you noticed the slight pink markings? That is not texture in the marble, that is blood scrawl. It is, more or less, a fence. It is part of the seal." Rorek answered.

"What about the floor?" Nightwing asked.

"It is layered. The top layer that we are standing on has no blood scrawl because it would do us bodily harm to be in constant contact with it. The bottom layer, however…"

"What about the pipes?" Beast Man put in. "I could turn into a snake and slip down through them."

"And do what? Do you think they have not thought of this as well? No, Beast Man, the same barrier that keeps us trapped will stop you." Rorek told him. Actually direct contact with the scrawl, and especially trying to go through it when the gate was sealed, would be fatal. But he didn't want any chance that Beast Man would try it anyway.

"They were _thorough_." Malchior finished. "There is only one way out of here now." And they were both dreading it, though neither more so than Malchior, who knew it had to be him. Rorek might have volunteered, but it was bad enough that one of them had the taint. It would be worse if they _both_ suffered for it.

"Well, what is it?" asked Green Lantern.

Ophelia's eyes widened with realization and a hand went to her mouth. "Oh…" she said. "Oh god…"

"Blood Magic." Rorek answered softly.

(O)

"And what are you doing up so late at night, Kid?"

Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP!

Red X turned and grinned nervously, coming face-to-face with none other than The Joker. And things had been going so well right up until now. Well, unless you counted that one cultist he'd had to stab in the eye and then shove into a closet. But he'd had the drop on that guy so this was kinda worse. "Um…I got up to get a drink of water and got lost…" he answered nervously. Behind the Joker was a glang. When Red X's eyes turned to look at it he found himself staring. His mouth dropping open. The Joker grinned at his reaction.

"Oh don't mind him! We're good friends now, aren't we Smiley?" The Joker asked, patting the glang on its arm.

Someone – who couldn't be anyone but The Joker – had drawn a _smiley face_ on the glang's blank white head. The utter epic awesomeness of this totally took over and Red X forgot he was supposed to be scared for a moment. "That's awesome…oh, and scary! Really scary! But…whoa…"

"Turns out all they want is some understanding. I understood him alright, he wanted a smile! Now, why don't you tell me where your parents are, Sonny?"

"Um, uh, I think my dad's working in the vaults tonight…" Red X answered, swallowing. He only sort of had to fake his fear, though. He didn't even want to _know_ how The Joker had managed to 'befriend' a glang.

"Really? Then why don't we go see how daddy's doing?"

Well, he was sort of still in luck. Having _The Joker_ show him to the vaults rather than practically anyone else (save She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Sane) was a bit on the _un_lucky side, but he'd be expecting the glang to keep Red X docile and unthreatening, wouldn't he? Still, X knew better than to leave everything to luck. "Oh n-no, I'm perfectly capable of turning myself in and getting a beating on my own if you'll just…um…point me in the right direction. Wouldn't want to put you to any trouble." he said nervously.

"Oh no, I insist. I'm not doing anything at the moment. Besides, don't want kids running around loose, do we? Some people could get the wrong idea." The Joker said, taking Red X by the arm and leading him off.

Kid…ugh. X was at _least_ 25 but he still _looked_ like he ought to be in high school. That was the thing about a slow aging process. It wasn't any fun when you were young because everyone thought you were younger than you were. It wouldn't be until he looked at least 21 when it'd be cool.

It turned out Red X hadn't been wandering all that far from the vaults after all. Though the term 'vault' was hardly applicable considering the lax security. It was more like a fortified storage area, but once the door was opened and they stepped inside everything was in boxes, kind of like the Church of Blood had had to move in a hurry and had yet to find the time or energy to unpack. Unpacking _was_ in evidence, though. Over to the side there were a bunch of tables where boxes sat in various states of dissection. Most of them were clothes, though. Pretty boring. Fortunately there was no one else around.

"Doesn't look like daddy's here, Ki—"

Red X, who was definitely not going to spare a possible advantage for the sake of being a gentleman, whirled, caught The Joker in a very sensitive area by way of a particular knee movement, got in a fist to the clown's head and another to the neck, and then managed to get his feet around in a complicated movement that ended up with The Joker flat on his back. A kick to the temple sent The Joker to dreamland.

Red X looked up at 'Smiley'. The glang backed away. Then X knelt down and started going through The Joker's pockets. Let's see here, there were some playing cards with razor edges, a pretty normal-looking revolver, some ridiculously colored pistol with a ridiculously large barrel, and a dart gun. Oh, there was also a little tank of gas attached to the flower on his suit. X decided it would be a good idea to carefully remove that as well; something that wasn't a problem for someone who could disarm and rearm napalm fire bombs.

He found a random box to dump the stuff into and began to look around desperately for his suit. It took him about 15 minutes but he found it in a glass case being worn by a mannequin. By that time, though, The Joker had come 'round. X heard him coughing and hacking from the blow to his neck.

"Why are you just standing there?-! Get him, Smiley!" The Joker ordered. Peering through the crack of some boxes, Red X was pleased to see that 'Smiley' wasn't moving. The Joker grumbled something and started fumbling in his pockets. It took him about a minute to realize what Red X had done. That was enough time for X to get the suit of the mannequin. "Seems you're not as stupid as you look, Junior. But you forgot a few things."

Red X glanced back through the crack and saw The Joker pull a pistol out of a holster he had around his knee. Crap! He redoubled his efforts to get the suit on.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Kid, but you picked the wrong place for this little game. Now where are you?-!"

"Tell me something," Red X called out, relying on the marble walls to make his voice bounce around, "How come The Joker is running with the Church of Blood? You really want to be told what to do by some big red four-eyed dude with no sense of humor for the rest of eternity?"

"They gave me cookies! And, of course, I couldn't resist having the opportunity to get one over on Batsy and Robin." Joker answered. There was a gunshot, but it was nowhere near Red X's hiding spot.

"I've never had to deal with The Bat myself, but Wonder Boy got on my case often enough that I can sympathize. Still, you don't think summoning an apocalypse-bent entity of untold power is going a bit far? The dude already destroyed the world once. What if it gets stuck like that this time around? I've heard that can happen to your face if you do weird stuff with your expression too many times."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for all that curly red hair. Mother Mayhem is my kind of crazy, you know?"

"Aw, dude! You have a thing for my _mom_? TMI, Man! TMI!"

"Alright, just who are you, Kid? HEY!" Joker exclaimed when a red four-pointed shuriken knocked his gun out of his hand.

Red X made a dramatic appearance on top of a pile of boxes. He couldn't resist. "Call me Red X." He shot another X at the Joker, this one designed to latch on and wrap the villain up in the red elastic substance his suit made.

"You're gonna pay for this, Kid!" The Joker exclaimed, struggling. But he didn't have superhuman strength and that Xenothium X stuff was designed with such strength in mind. "Smiley! Get him! What are you doing just standing there?-! Stop _looking_ creepy and _do _creepy!" he commanded.

"You know, I heard once that Halloween was originally a holiday where people dressed up in scary costumes to frighten off evil spirits and stuff." Red X mused as he leapt down. He walked right over to 'Smiley'. "Ooga! Ooga! Ooga!" he said, waving his hands at the glang. The glang backed down and moved out of the way, leaving the exit wide open for Red X to run through. "Later, Man." he said over his shoulder before darting through the door. He closed and locked it behind him. Well, there was The Joker out of the way. Now he just had to worry about Mother Mayhem and—

Red X skidded to a halt. It wasn't the two hulking figures of glang that worried him, but the person they were flanking. Well, she wasn't Mother Mayhem, but at the moment she was close enough.

Mirabelle peered at him over her bifocals. She had a rather odd expression on her face but Red X did _not_ want to stick around to find out what she was thinking. He looked behind him and wasn't at all surprised to see another glang there. There was just one, but it was the one with so many branch-like limbs that it had the entire hallway blocked off. Oh he was pretty sure it'd move out of the way if he rushed it, but was he really willing to give up the advantage of their ignorance?

Before he could come to a decision, though, Mirabelle grabbed him by the arm. "I think it's about time you and I had a little heart-to-heart, Sebastian. One that Mother Mayhem doesn't need to know about. What do you say?"

Actually, that sounded a bit promising. "I say…you've got my attention."

(O)

"You must understand," Rorek began. It sounded as though he were etching every word into a block of stone. "Blood Magic does not take _only_ the blood. This is deep magic. I appreciate you do not fully understand what that means but I will try to explain. It uses blood, yes, but it uses the blood that is not only blood."

"You are thinking too scientifically." Malchior told them. "You're thinking of blood as the molecules that carry oxygen and nutrients through the body. You're thinking of the blood that can replenish itself with bone marrow and iron. And yes, that is what blood is, but not to the deep magics. It's more than that."

"It is _life_. It is what you are, who you are. It touches your thoughts, your emotions, your memory, your very _self_."

"If and when you give your blood for something like this, a bit of your _self_ will be taken as well. To explain it another way, it is going to shorten your life. Not by much, and perhaps you won't even notice anything amiss if you give a single drop, but one drop can be as much as one month, and one month is precious when it is all you have."

"Alright, I think I get it. But what choice do we have?" Nightwing asked.

"He's right. If we don't then we're dead anyway." Flash came in.

"But if we _do_ then we will have to live with the consequences." Rorek stated.

"I've heard a phrase repeated constantly by people preparing to do evil for the sake of good." Malchior said. "It is something along the lines of, 'The ends justify the means.' It's wrong. The question is _not_, 'Do the ends justify the means?'"

"The question is, 'Are the ends worth the price of the means?'" Rorek finished. "We cannot do this lightly, even if there seems to be no other feasible option."

"Then everyone who can will contribute just a little of our blood." Batman said.

"That way this price will be shared equally." Green Lantern added.

"No, it won't." Ophelia snapped angrily. Several of the party looked at her. She _didn't_ look happy. "You don't get it, do you? _We're_ not the ones who are going to be suffering for this when it's all over! So you lose a month of old age, big deal! Malchior's going to have to struggle with the taint of using Blood Magic for the rest of his life! _He's_ the one who will be suffering, not any of us! Maybe we feel a bit, well, _thinner_ than normal, but we can live with that. Has anyone been addicted to smoking or drugs or something? Imagine being addicted to marijuana, morphine, tobacco, alcohol, and coffee and then quitting everything at the same time. Cold turkey. _That's_ what it's going to be like for him." she said. She turned agonized eyes to the twins. "Are you sure there's nothing else we can do?" she asked desperately.

"It will not be that bad, Oph—I mean, Lady Eisen." Rorek told her gently. Not this time, anyway.

"Blood Magic is not inherently evil when the power is given willingly and knowingly for benevolent purpose." Malchior explained.

"Bullshit! All that means is that there's no theft – no sin – being committed! It'll be like taking marijuana legally. It's still going to hurt afterwards! You're still going to have the addiction! Are you so sure you can handle it?" she demanded.

"Yes, I am." Malchior stated flatly. Ophelia opened her mouth to argue but Malchior stopped her. "I have overcome the addiction once before. I will do it again."

Ophelia's jaw dropped.

"You've used Blood Magic before?-!" Jinx exclaimed.

"Just once…It was enough…I do not wish to do it again, but it is better I do so than to allow another to be tainted." he told them. "I will know what to expect."

Or so he thought.

The first time he had used Blood Magic he had killed a man for the power. And oh there had been a _lot_ of power. He thought there would be much less this time. Nightwing, Jinx, Flash, Kid Flash, Batman, Starfire, Beast Man, Green Lantern, and Ophelia all contributed at least a drop of blood. Only Cyborg and Rorek were unable to contribute. Cyborg because he had next to no actual blood to speak of and Rorek because there was no power to be gained by taking blood from one's own self. It wouldn't work. They cut their fingers on the razor edge of Rorek's knife and crowded around Malchior to let them drip onto his hand where the blood soaked through his skin, becoming power.

What he had forgotten was that this was deep magic. And in deep magic there was nothing more powerful than that of a knowing and willing self-sacrifice.

He had to lean against the wall as the force of it washed over him, through him, sloshing through his veins, his muscles, his very _bones_ before settling down into a sensation that was surely very much like what it felt like to be a god. He held his breath, waiting for himself to adjust. He heard voices questioning him, worrying about him, was vaguely aware of Rorek's power healing the cuts, but had to focus his will to resisting the thoughts that snaked their way to the forefront of his mind.

But it felt _so good_.

_I could do anything with this power. Anything. All those little villains, all those petty criminals in their silly costumes with their silly gimmicks would be obliterated. And why stop there? Have I not seen the rise and fall of many empires and nations all over the world? Wouldn't I know better than anyone else how things should be run? The world could be mine, __**should**__ be mine._

_I could break Rorek. I could seal him back in one of the books and leave him in my sub-space pocket for all eternity. Then Raven would be mine and only mine. My mate, my queen, mine alone…_

_I could hunt down all the practitioners of Blood Magic. They and their accomplices would be utterly obliterated. The world would be safe from Blood Magic because I would be the one and only practitioner with the blood of murderers to feed me._

_And no one could stop me._

"_Help me!"_ he cried out. _"Damn it, Rorek! Help me!"_

Rorek, cringing slightly as he did so, slipped into Malchior's mind and began to impose his will upon those despicable but oh-so-seductive thoughts. Little by little Malchior was able to let go of them, to push them aside, to refocus himself. Rorek reminded him of the very reason he had taken their blood. If Malchior gave in to these thoughts, if he allowed the power to consume him, then it _would_ be a sin.

"_These are your friends, Malchior. You have taken their blood. Do not dishonor their sacrifice."_

Malchior took a deep breath. The last nail that Rorek drove home was the memory of Raven being taken away from them. They had to reach her. Even if she were not being held in a prison, she was still being held prisoner by the threat of their deaths. They had to get to her to show her that they were free and she could fight.

Malchior let out his breath and opened his eyes, his mind wrapped in a cage of purpose. Some of the others drew back.

"_Damn_…" said Flash, his eyes wide. "Uh…you look good! Real good! Um…"

"Yes, I know my eyes are red." Malchior told him calmly. More red than usual, that was. With this much power in his body the entire eye – pupil, whites, _and_ iris – would all be red with no apparent difference between them. It was also very likely that the veins along his skin were quite visible. "It will wear off." he said, looking down at his hand. Yep, lots of bright red veins and bright blue arteries. Definitely not a very attractive pattern for one's skin. Fortunately those were starting to fade even as he watched them.

He turned and moved swiftly to the door. The seal was such that it would only open for specific people, or rather it was supposed to. It wouldn't stop him. He had enough power to shatter seal and scrawl both with bruit force. He put a hand on the door and…

Something was wrong. Why was…ah, yes, of course. He removed the iron rings on his fingers and tried again. It still wasn't working.

"I think you will have to take your armor off as well." Rorek told him.

"Uh, why?" Ophelia asked.

"It only _looks_ like bronze." Malchior answered. "It is actually steel that has been alchemically treated to prevent rust and give it a more interesting color." he explained, removing breastplate, gauntlets, and boots. He went ahead and took off his scarf as well so it wouldn't get in the way. Then he remembered the little button on his collar. It was made of the same steel. Would it be enough to hinder him? Better safe than sorry. "Daanik." he muttered. He unsnapped it and pulled his shirt off.

"Uh, okay, so why are you taking your shirt off?" Kid Flash asked.

"Because this is easier than removing the little steel button on the collar." Malchior answered, putting the shirt away. "Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked, turning to smirk at the superheroes.

"You are kind of making the rest of us look bad." Beast Man answered. "I have to morph for muscles like that."

"And I'd be crying like a little girl if I tried to get my entire body tattooed like that." Flash said.

Malchior glanced down at his arm. The veins and arteries had already faded to near invisibility, but his markings…they were a very deep shade of red. And when he put a hand to the door again, this time having very little trouble destroying the seal, they shimmered with glittering motes of white as he used the power humming through his body. Once the seal was broken he kicked the doors down, breaking through the mundane lock that had also been used on them. With his bare feet on the cool white marble he could _feel_ the structure in its entirety. It was almost all a solid block of marble. That was a bit worrying. Where did humans learn to build structures like these? Only dragons knew how to do this, and they had been very choosy about what humans they granted the knowledge to.

And, with the little tracker he and Rorek had secretly and a bit guiltily placed in the sapphires they had given Raven, he knew where she was.

It occurred to him that using the word 'obsessive' in this case would ruin a perfectly good opportunity to use the word 'stalker'. Perhaps it was just as well that they already lived in the same house.

"This way." he said, leading the party onward.

(O)

There was no one she could see on the other side of the fancy double doors. That was good. That meant no one would actually _see_ how she was going to break the circle.

A part of her – that small, annoying, _thinking_, part – was registering doubt as to whether this was _actually_ going to work or not. But The Other had no doubts at all. She knelt down with her knife and, without hesitation, brought it down onto the line of salt. Then, with the blade, she brushed the salt from one side to the other, creating a distinct gap. She smirked, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the blade. She very much liked the feel of it in her hand, but it would get in the way. Her claws were more efficient weapons. Besides, her white dragon had given this to her. She didn't want to damage it. She put it away.

She kicked the salt about a little for good measure and then turned her attention to the door at the far end. As she grew closer she noticed something _very_ unwelcome. There was a seal there that looked much like the one on the door to the prison. She bared her teeth at it and snarled. She began to bang on the door with her fist, the bracelets jangling together on her wrist.

"**RELEASE ME!"** she roared. **"RELEASE ME NOW OR I SHALL MAKE PASTE FROM YOUR BONES!"**

Despite her rage and great lack of self-doubt, The Other was actually a bit surprised when the seal suddenly disappeared and the doors were flung open. She didn't show it, though. Instead she glared at the astonished man who had opened the door. He gaped at her, open-mouthed.

"L-Lady Raven?" he inquired.

The Other grabbed him by his collar and growled in his face. **"Not 'Lady'. You do not call me 'Lady'."** she clipped out. That was what her white dragon called her. No one else had the right.

"M-Mistress?" he offered.

"**Better."** she shoved him out of her way and stepped out into a wide hall full of doors. There were more cultists there, drawn here by her angry roar. They were all looking very surprised, but a few of the fast-thinkers dropped to their knees, one of them dropping a bundle of papers as he did so. She glared at them. She _wanted_ to start ripping off heads until someone said something she wanted to hear such as, 'I will show you where your dragons are and afterwards slit my own throat to save you the trouble'.

But she couldn't. She wasn't entirely sure why, but there was a reason and it was a powerful one to be keeping her from causing a well-deserved bloodbath. She turned to the one who had freed her. He was currently on his knees as well and either cowering or bowing, it was a bit difficult to tell the difference at this point.

"**Where is the Mad Mother?"** she demanded.

"M-Mother M-Mayhem, Mistress? She is asleep. Shall we wake her?" he asked, not looking up.

"**No, let her sleep."** A slumbering Mother Mayhem was a good thing.

"Mirabelle is still awake, Mistress. I can take you to her." he offered.

"**Yes. Do this now."** Mirabelle was in charge of the glang. If she tricked the woman into thinking she was the demon they wanted so much and then killed her before she was even aware of the deception then, with Mother Mayhem asleep, she could find her dragons and her friends.

Oh, right, she would need a Blood Magic practitioner to open the seal. Mirabelle would have to be convinced to do it, then. Or someone else. This man here had opened her own door quite readily when he heard her voice, hadn't he?

Then, once they were safe, _then_ would come the bloodbath.

(O)

He thought it'd just be Mirabelle and that was bad enough, but it didn't _stay_ just Mirabelle. Instead she led him to a seemingly unremarkable room that might have stayed completely unremarkable if it weren't for the fact that there were five of the cult's higher ups standing around and looking pensive under their hoods. The bright floodlights made it impossible for their faces to be shadowed under those hoods so Red X could see faces. To his surprise he only recognized one of them.

"I see there've been some changes to the board of elders since I left, what, a _year ago_? What's going on?" Red X asked.

"They're dead." said Jerom Kark, the one familiar face. "So are about half of our members. The _richer_ half."

"Uh…what?"

Mirabelle closed the door behind her. "Some time ago, the Church hosted an extravagant party for all our most executive members. It was very exclusive."

"And _terminal_." spat a well-wrinkled woman with a British accent.

Red X looked from face to uncomfortable face, drawing up a few very wild but, in his opinion, all-too-believable conclusions. "Mother Mayhem killed a bunch of cult members for power?" he asked. He was horrified, yes, but not very surprised.

"Apparently you get a lot more power if you actually _kill_ them. Seems such a waste to me. Leave them alive and fed and you can milk them over and over again like a cow." said a man.

"Mind you, some of them go a bit funny after a while. Have you noticed? One of my favorites lost her hair and started gibbering. Had to put her down, there was nothing else for it. Couldn't stand to look at her." said British Accent.

Red X swallowed silently. One would think he'd be used to this but he wasn't. If only he still had a napalm fire bomb on him. He could be out of that door and about 1% of the world's total evil would be gone in the next few seconds. Give him two fire bombs and an unsuspecting Mother Mayhem and that'd take care of another 2%, at least.

"The thing is," said Jerom, "She's been killing us off. _Us_! Now, I can understand why she did away with a few of them, but then she goes and writes words on the walls because she says it'll be _fun_ to watch the police try dancing around the fact that they can't do anything about it. And she purposefully got Batman and the Justice League involved, I don't understand why."

"For fun?" Red X offered, wondering why they were so surprised.

"What we are trying to get at is this: You need to take over and stop it." said another man. "Do your duty, perform the Rite, marry our goddess, and become the leader. It's the only way to stop her, you see. She's gone completely mad."

"Alright, listen. Even if I _was_ gonna do all that stuff and I _didn't_ find it incredibly funny that she's sucking out your blood instead of other people's – yeah, how does that feel, bro? – what makes you think she's just going to _step down_ just like that? That witch is so wicked powerful and crazy with Blood Magic she makes iron rust just by being in the same room. I have it on good authority that that sort of thing doesn't happen often and when it does you have a serious problem. She has gone _way_ beyond any of you. What's to stop her from deciding it should be the Mother Mayhems who are top dog rather than the Brother Bloods?" he asked.

"She cannot defy the will of the Church as a whole." said Jerom.

"Betcha 20 dollars."

Red X looked around at all the worried and tense faces with absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.

"Thank you Lords, Ladies. I think I can take over from here now that he knows we are united in this." Mirabelle said coolly, her eyes fixed on Red X. The elders all nodded their heads and began trooping out of the room, giving him and each other nervous looks while whispering behind hands. When they were gone, Mirabelle turned to Red X. "I know you stole the Source. Where is it?" she demanded.

"You mean the Elder Scroll? Raven has it. I don't know where she put it but she seemed pretty sure it was safe." he told her.

"If you can convince her to return it, then Mother Mayhem can be dealt with." she said.

Red X stared at her. "Raven's here?" He vaguely remembered the witch saying something about meeting his 'bride', but he hadn't been thinking too hard about it. He hadn't really been able to.

Crap, that meant he was going to have to play the hero again, didn't it? Well, he couldn't very well leave her, could he?

Mirabelle smirked. "Oh yes, we have captured the Titans of Jump City, three members of the Justice League, and an Azarathian Monk with a body type very similar to your own has most graciously decided to see sense. He is assisting us by wearing a replica suit and taking your place on Azarath." She looked quite proud of herself.

"Uh…hang on, you have all of them? Even Red Eyes and Rorek? Oh you are so screwed. You are so very, _very_ screwed." Red X started to laugh. "You just flat out have no _idea_ who you're messing with, you are so screwed! And you brought them _here_, in _this facility_, where all the elders and higher-ups have gathered together to try and politely suggest to Mother Mayhem that perhaps she's going just the tiniest bit too far and would she please sort of take it down a notch. Wow, there is just no words to describe how very screwed you are."

Mirabelle gave him a cool look over her glasses. "I assure you, young man, we know how to deal with dragons. They are in our most heavily fortified cells, trapped by both circles and a blood seal."

"Yeah, low—er, actually think it's called _deep_ magic—and Blood Magic, which they know a lot more about than you do, I might add. Betcha 20 dollars they manage to break free." Red X said.

"Cease these games, Sebastian, and start taking your role in this church seriously! Mother Mayhem is no longer fit to lead. She has gone too far this time!"

Red X took a step back. The blazing mania in Mirabelle's eyes was a bit disturbing. So where the hairs that had managed to dislodge from her usually impeccable bun and its surrounding hairpins. Mirabelle didn't lose her cool like that very often. Red X had only ever seen it happen once before and it only lasted a second. This time, though, there was a twitch, an actual _twitch_ in the woman's eye.

"Alright…" Red X began slowly. "You mean killing off half the cult for power?"

"No, certainly not. We can replenish the church without problem. Children go missing all the time, there are orphanages everywhere, and the rich and powerful do so love their secret societies, don't they? No, she has commanded us to invade the territory of our goddess despite the unanimous opposition of the elders, most of whom are no longer with us now. And perhaps that could be overlooked, but now she has captured and imprisoned the goddess against her wishes! Yes, perhaps Mistress Raven is not in her right mind. But there is such a thing as _respect_ and Mother Mayhem has enclosed the goddess within a circle as though she were some…some prisoner! I do not believe Mother Mayhem truly intends to Awaken the goddess as she is meant to because she knows that it will then be Mistress Raven who commands us. Not her, not even you. Don't you see? Your mother is defying the very foundation of our religion! She—"

Mirabelle stopped abruptly when the door opened. Red X turned to look and saw…Raven? No, no it wasn't Raven, not really Raven. It _couldn't_ be Raven 'cause, see, Raven didn't do dresses. Which was a pity because hot _damn_. She looked _good_.

At least, right up to the point where you noticed she had four glowing red eyes, the Mark of Scath superimposed on her forehead where that red stone was, and other similar marks glowing along her skin down her chest, across her arms, and presumably down the rest of her body where the cloth was too thick for them to show. Well, alright, if he were completely honest with himself she still looked good. Like a hard core demon goddess that all the other demon goddesses only _wished_ they could be.

It was just that, while lava looked really cool and it was kinda neat watching all those trees catch fire when it touched them, he wasn't about to get anywhere near it himself. So the thoughts going through his head did _not_ involve speculations of how the dress would look on his bedroom floor or anything at all similar. They involved a lot of swearing and lamentations about the shortness of his life and how little it really helped to know that he was going to die at the hands of an extremely hot demoness.

Raven smiled at the dumbfounded Mirabelle. That is to say, she showed her teeth. By all things conventional, at least two of those teeth _should_ have been pointed. They weren't, but that was okay. X's imagination was perfectly capable of supplying the points all by itself. **"You were saying?"** she asked. The tone of her voice was sweet, but that only made it worse. It wasn't just her voice, though. Oh he could hear the slightly gravely tones of the normal Raven there, but he could also hear some hissing, a guttural whisper, and a smooth siren echo. It was as though she had at least four voices and two of them weren't human.

_I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die…_

(8)

A/N: Sorry I haven't been able to respond to reviews lately. As has been previously indicated, I've been working crazy hours and have been dead tired.

Coming up in the next chapter:  
With or without mustard?

Note to Whisper Dark Rose: Huh, you know, I honestly didn't notice that with the names. I just thought, okay, familial title + some worrying noun. I CAN DO THAT! Oh well, I'd have to rewrite way too much to change it now.


	50. Return

A/N: I think it's safe to say that this story is going to go on for slightly more than 50 chapters. :D

(8)

_I expected a battle. I expected scorn. I expected days, perhaps weeks, of constant coercion to gain the knowledge I sought. What I did not expect was sympathy._

_He told me everything. Everything my friends had hidden from me all these years. Any dragon could spot it, any dragon that saw me would know. They could smell it on me as though it were some kind of stench in their mind. A taint, a foulness that humans did not detect. They knew me for what I was and yet not a single one of them, not even those I was sent out to kill, had told __**me**__. Perhaps they thought I knew._

_I know of The Putrid One, but until now I had believed her to be no more than a story intended to frighten younglings and entertain elders. Sometimes it is difficult to know what is history and what is fiction, and yet it had seemed to me somewhat sacrilegious for dragons to envision a being that was both the bane and match of Maartuz himself. All the same I could not believe such a being might actually exist. But she is real. She is my mother. I am terrified._

_I had thought to return to the High Priest for guidance and reassurance, perhaps there was some way to rid myself of this taint, whatever it might be. But my benefactor advised against it and offered me sanctuary in his dwelling. He has been a comfort to me and has further revealed an extensive knowledge of the arcane arts. He offered to teach me as a means of softening the blow of this revelation. When I questioned his motives all he said was that he understood what it was to be tainted by one's lineage._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 50 – Return**

"**I remember you now."** Raven said to Mirabelle. **"It was some time ago. I took my dragons to see Stonehenge. My black one was still the paper man back then. You were our guide. The one who was on much medication."**

Red X looked at Mirabelle. Her eyes were wide with wonder, but was it just him, or was he detecting a bit of fear as well? Now wasn't this what she wanted in the first place? Hmmm…

Shakily, Mirabelle took a small bottle of pills out of her pocket. "There are certain herbs that can hide one's Blood Magic, even from the keenest senses. It is how we eluded the Monks of Azarath many centuries ago. But I have an adverse reaction to them, it seems." she explained.

X had no idea what they were talking about and he couldn't care less. Raven, or whatever she had become thanks to Mummy Dearest, flowed into the room, the elegantly fluttering skirts of her midnight black dress seemed to ripple as she moved. X couldn't help but admire the way the fabric was synched around her frame, expressing quite a bit more…well…_woman_ than he thought was there. Way too much for him, he decided. He was much too young to get married. Well, his body was, anyway. But, more importantly than Raven's movement, was the fact that she was moving and moving _away_ from the door. He spotted his chance and he took it.

She moved like lightening. Before X was entirely aware of what had just happened he was sailing through the air and landing flat on his butt. His body instinctively put him in a position to roll so he was back on his feet the next second, but good gawd! How did she _do_ that?-!

"**You stay."** she growled.

"Yes ma'am." he responded meekly, wondering how demons were supposed to show submission to one another. Was it like dogs, where you exposed the back of your neck or something? Keeping your head lower than the other's felt like some kind of universal sign so he stayed in his crouch.

Raven turned back to Mirabelle. **"Mother Mayhem intends to control me by keeping hostage what is mine. What do you intend?"** she asked.

"I would see the prophecy come to pass, Mistress." Mirabelle answered breathlessly. "For you to assume your rightful place among us as our goddess, for Trigon to be reborn through you, and for the world to be united under his rule and your command."

"**The world would be united in stone and fire and trapped in time. **_**I**_** do not desire this outcome. I will not bear this child."**

Which, on the whole, was a good thing. Then again, it didn't exactly mean Red X was getting out of here with his life.

Mirabelle looked horrified. "But you must!" she exclaimed. "It was foretold! For countless centuries we have sacrificed and striven to ensure that this would come to pass. You can't—"

"**I can't? You call me 'goddess' and yet you claim you know better than I?"** Raven said.

"The-the prophecy, the very reason for our existence, our very purpose, everything we've worked for—"

"**Is not **_**my**_** will."** Raven finished. **"And so you are left with an unfortunate theological conundrum. Your god and your goddess are at odds. Your goddess stands before you and says 'no'. Your god is silent. Your leader has gone mad and worships a different god now, though she pretends so well. Your only other choice for a leader denies you and all that you are. And yet will you still cling to your precious prophecy and impose your will upon me in the same way as Mother Mayhem?"** she asked.

X would not have believed it of the woman, but Mirabelle actually drew herself up and gave Raven a look of determined defiance. "If that is what it takes." she said.

It was the last mistake she was ever going to make because, no less than five seconds of silence so thick with tension you could cut it with a knife, a man appeared at the open door, looking out of breath and panicked. "Lady Mirabelle! The prisoners have escaped! The Titans and the Justice League—they got out of the prison, we have no idea how! Who—" The man stopped gibbering when Raven turned just enough for him to catch sight of her face, and then she turned that face back to Mirabelle, who realized her mistake _wayyyy_ too late.

Red X had just enough time to say, "Called it." before Mirabelle was on the floor, blood gushing from her neck, a very large part of which was clutched in Raven's black claws – which turned out to be _actual_ claws and not fake nails. Yikes!

The man with the news backed away, but, in one movement, Raven whirled and something flew out of her hand, lodging itself in the man's forehead.

"Damn…" Red X murmured faintly, watching as Not-Raven glided over and daintily retrieved her knife. Then she looked at him over her shoulder.

"**You follow if you wish to escape."** she told him. **"I have a bloodbath, to make and you are not one of mine. I will not return for you."**

"Understood. Following now." he told her earnestly, running after her. "So, um…this is the demon you, is it?" he asked sheepishly.

Not-Raven snorted. **"Not demon."** she said. Here the human parts of her voice seemed to grow softer as the demonic parts became more prominent. **"No demons here. I am The Other. I look like demon, I seem like demon, but I am very human. I am the human that demons speak to. I am human without humanity, riding within humanity, humanity riding me, driving me by thoughts. Humanity is in the words. I am Raven, Raven in the words. Call me The Other."**

"Uh…I didn't understand a _word_ you just said." he told her.

"**No more talking."** Not-Raven, who wished to be referred to as 'The Other', snarled at him with impatience. A pair of cultists appeared around the hall. They took one look at Raven and, very unwisely, fell to their knees and began shouting entreaties that were cut off quite abruptly when she bashed their heads into the marble so hard the brains started to leak out.

"Yes ma'am." Red X said, deciding to shut up for now. The scariest part was that, despite all the gushing blood, none of it had touched her dress thus far. He might assume magic but…well, this 'Other' Raven seemed to him to be so very extremely wicked powerful that she'd turn her nose up at magic and treat it like something that'd only get in her way.

(O)

Raven was moving. That was promising, but also frustrating since she wasn't moving _towards_ them. She wasn't the only one moving, though. The entire facility was slowly rising to a state of uproar. Multiple second-party practitioners had tried to stop them only to be blasted away with the sheer indomitable force of Malchior's power.

He was getting yelled at for this ruthlessness by all three Justice League members and a few of the Titans but at this point there was nothing they could do. So far two more glang had tried to stop them only to be obliterated by Rorek's Thu'um, and no one else wanted to try dealing with glang or Blood Magic on their own. Even Ophelia was hesitant.

The protests stopped, however, when Malchior led them to the harvester's barracks. Rorek had insisted that they search for Damien, but the first set they came to…

It was as bad as they remembered. Worse, though, because time had dulled the horror and warped those memories a bit so that they weren't quite so terrible. Rorek refused to allow Jinx, Starfire, and Beast Man to see and they stopped arguing with him about it after several superheroes ran out to throw up in a corner or along the wall.

Sunken faces, no hair, no nails; not even an eyelash between them. Many of them were already to the point where they were crawling like four-legged spiders with their necks bent back so far they could look straight up at the ceiling. Some weren't moving at all; their life only evident in the slow blinking of dull eyes. It would have been better if the room had been full of corpses.

"What…what _is_ this?" Green Lantern asked. "Are these aliens?"

"No." Rorek answered softly. "This is what happens when a person's blood is harvested over and over again. More than merely the substance itself is taken. Do you see? And it will never return."

"What are you doing?" Batman demanded, his question aimed at Malchior, who had pulled out a dagger and was walking towards a small cluster of people.

"They are already dead." Malchior snarled back. "Those of you who won't help, leave." he ordered.

They made the kills swift and painless. Malchior had to be careful not to let any of the blood spill on him. It would be hard to explain, with logic, why taking the last bits of life from people who were practically rolling themselves over to be killed was an act of evil, especially when the power was going to be used to avenge their suffering. But it was, and it would be if it he did it. There was a taint there, and unless they cut their own throats with the intention of giving him the last of their lives for this purpose then a sin would be committed. But he was neat. He knew where to hit and what to cut that would sever the tiny thread of life that these people were too weak even to let go of. Rorek and Ophelia helped, and then they explored the rest of the barracks. When they encountered guards no one so much as flinched when Malchior sent his dagger flying into one of their necks.

The rest of the harvests didn't look nearly as bad as the first set. At least on the outside. Most of them still had most of their hair and nails and were able to walk upright. They would also be strong enough to take their own lives once they were free to do so – though neither Rorek nor Malchior mentioned this part to the others. They simply looked around for Damien while the others started gathering up the surviving prisoners.

"Some of us should get these people out of here." Nightwing said.

"Agreed. Green Lantern, you, Kid Flash, and Flash take these people to the surface and get help. Contact the rest of the Justice League for backup. This ends tonight." Batman said in a chilly voice.

"Got it. Which way is out?" Flash asked.

Rorek gave him directions while Malchior took a moment to assess the situation of the path they were to take. He couldn't make out any details, but it seemed to him that there were few vibrations coming from that area so it was probably clear. Still, that didn't mean much. There were a _lot_ of vibrations coming from other areas. Especially around and rather distinctly _away_ from where Raven was. Malchior grinned horribly. He chose to take this as proof that she now knew they were free and was raining hell down upon the cult. Too bad she couldn't seem to track them the way they were tracking her. Perhaps they should have requested such a spell in the blood diamond she gave them, though that would mean she would only be able to find one at a time. Perhaps they'd make themselves some gold rings with sapphires for her to enchant.

The rest of the party made it some way down another passage without encountering any trouble, at least right up until a shrill scream erupted from a suspiciously open doorway.

"Was that Raven?-!" Jinx gasped.

"No. It was not." Malchior answered.

"But it sounded like—d"

"It wasn't. One moment, please."

He surrounded himself in a barrier of the shimmering red spellfire that was the shape this Blood Magic had taken. His markings glowed and glittered with the incredible power as he entered the chamber, closing the door behind him. A few darts and some laser of some sort were shot at him, but it did little good. He saw a Raven look-alike in the room along with what appeared to be an overgrown ape, a machine hooked up to a brain floating in liquid with a _very_ flimsy-looking glass case around it, and a very old man in a blue uniform of military design.

He looked about, rather surprised to find himself in some sort of auditorium. "My, my," he said. "What a very large space you have all led me into." He gave them an unpleasant grin. "Nice try, Madam Rouge, but you should have just run."

By the time the others had forced the door back open the auditorium held no more than multiple piles of ash and one dragon that, despite having only just enough room to turn about without too much trouble, had been able to do so very fast indeed.

He was regarded with many wide-eyed looks of astonishment, most of these expressions accompanied by open mouths.

"You know…" Nightwing began, "I forgot how big you were."

"If I were allowed to spend more time in this shape I might able to relearn how to decrease my size." Malchior told them before returning to his human form.

"Dragons can change their size?" Ophelia asked.

"We cannot increase beyond our original size, only decrease. We can only do it to a certain point, and it is incredibly uncomfortable to remain shrunk for long periods of time, but yes, it is possible." Malchior explained.

"Are we done here? Let's get going." Batman urged.

(O)

By now word had apparently gone around that The Other, or rather, 'our goddess', was extremely angry and in no mood to take prisoners. Several attempts had been made by some of the idiots to beg forgiveness and ask her how to redeem themselves, but they got no mercy. They were only asking forgiveness for the insult of trapping her in a circle, thinking _that_ was the reason she was angry.

The Red One was making himself useful enough. Throwing distracting stars, tossing little traps to stop those who tried to run just a bit too late, and generally stroking her ego by expressing how impressed he was at the way she threw her Damascus knife and managed to perform effective martial arts without doing any visible damage whatsoever to her dress – which looked _amazing_ on her, by the way. This was the kind of talking she did not mind whatsoever. Perhaps she would simply ignore that annoying part of her thinking 'suck up' and consider him one of hers after all.

"**There is a fight up ahead."** she announced.

"Is it the Titans?" Red X asked hopefully.

"**No…"** she said, though uncertainly. She felt the ground tremble, hissed a far more certain, **"Yes!"** and broke into a run.

The marble chamber they came to was in shambles. The reason for this being the fact that the marble itself had been used as a weapon. She was not wholly certain how she knew this, she just did. She also knew the blond-haired girl who was currently being held in some kind of red-black stasis field by two cultists. A name did not come to her at first. All that came to her was simply one word.

_**Mine.**_

The Other leapt. One cultist took her knife in the back of his head. The second saw this and backed away as she knelt down to pull the knife free.

"W-wait! Mistress, she's trying to—" he gasped out, apparently thinking he could somehow explain his actions.

"**Mine."** The Other snarled. She leapt, catching him in the forehead with a snake-like strike from her blade. Then she tossed the body away before the blood could spurt on her dress.

Shakily the blond girl sat up and stared at The Other with an expression of petrified terror.

"**You stay, Rock Girl. No more turning to stone. Understand?"** The Other growled.

"Y-yes!" she gasped.

"**Good. Can you walk?"**

"Y-yes."

"**Come."**

"O-okay."

Red X knelt down to help the blond girl to her feet. "Hiya, name's Red X. Um…who are you? She seems to think you're one of the Titans but I don't recognize you."

"W-w-well I was…My name's Terra." the girl answered. "Um…who is she?"

The Other's attention was drawn to a pile of rubble. She raised her knife, preparing to send it hurling at the first sensitive body part that showed itself, but then she paused. She growled. For some reason, part of her was insisting that she could not kill this one despite the fact that she really, _really_ wanted to. He coughed and looked around. "Ah, Raven. I am quite glad to see you, though it would have been nicer to see you a bit less…red."

"Oh _hell_! Out of the frying pan and into the fireworks. What the hell are _you_ doing here?-!" Red X demanded.

"_That's Raven_?-!" Terra squeaked.

"Always so ungrateful. Hard as it is to believe, Sebastian, I am trying to _help_. Now why don't you let go of my apprentice there and let us find the other Titans." Slade said.

"_Apprentice_?-! You're with him?" Red X exclaimed, drawing away from Terra. The Other turned to look at her.

"I didn't want to!" she exclaimed wildly, "But he—he said you guys were in trouble, he said—"

The Other returned her attention to Slade. **"Not yours. Mine."** she snarled.

"Now, Raven. That's not fair. I'm the one who returned her memories to her, after all. And that was neither easy nor cheap. I should get something out of it, shouldn't I?" he reasoned.

"_**Mine**_**."** she repeated, the harmonics of her voice shaking the already destabilizing foundations of the chamber. She raised the knife and took a step towards Slade, whose visible eye took in the sight of the two very dead cultists and made a quick and wise decision. He held his hands up in supplication.

"Alright, alright, she's all yours. Happy Birthday, or something." he said. "I really wish we could stop meeting like this, Raven. You were so much easier to deal with when you were quiet and reserved."

She growled and gave Slade a horrible grin. **"Yes, imagine three years ago if I were like this. You would be a smear on the pavement."**

Slade chuckled. "Three years ago, Raven, you did not have this power."

"Are you okay?" Red X asked Terra in a quiet voice.

"I'm just really hoping she doesn't remember the time I made fun of her with a big wad of mud, that's all." Terra whispered, as if such a thing could possibly have any significance to her. Only the weak and insecure held grudges for such petty, worthless things.

"**Now, though, you will be a smear on the pavement. Do not damage what is mine, do not threaten what is mine, do not **_**touch**_** what is mine."** The Other snarled.

"Very well, Raven. So will you accept my help against our common enemy or not?" he asked.

She wanted to say no, but that thinking part remembered what Rorek had told her about hellfire. They would very likely need his help, especially against Mother Mayhem and whatever gods the woman was in league with. The Other narrowed her eyes at him but said, **"Yes."**

"Good."

"**Understand that I will leave very little of you in one place should you decide to betray us."**

"Yes, understood." he answered. "By the way, is this a new look?" he asked.

"**The dress was part of a deception. I have not had time to change."**

"Ah, I see. Clever. I imagine you could even fool Mother Mayhem like that." Slade mused.

"**No. Not her."** The Other stated. She then turned and approached Terra, holding her hand out, fist down, to the trembling girl. **"You take this." **Terra opened her hand and The Other dropped an iron ring into it. Not the Nibelungen ring, but the other one that was just a bit rusted.

"W-what is it?" Terra asked.

"**Wear it. There should be enough iron left for now. When we find the others my dragons will give you new ones."** The Other instructed.

"Your…dragons?"

"Yeah, I meant to ask about that. Mirabelle mentioned something about dragons. You're not talking about Yin and Yang, are you?"

"**Yes."**

"They're _dragons_? But they look so…human-shaped!"

"**Sentient dragons, Dovah, have human shapes."** The Other smirked at him, **"A bit out of the loop, aren't we?"**

"Dragons…_really_? Well, no wonder my power didn't kill that one with the long black hair." Slade mused. She didn't like the way he seemed to be mulling over this bit of information, but that was a concern for later.

"**We go now."** The Other ordered.

"Hey, do you have any more rings? Mine rusted." Red X asked.

"**I have only two rings. The other is mine."** she answered.

Red X turned to Terra and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well _someone's_ special."

"What is this supposed to do?" she asked, still looking at the ring. "I mean, it's kind of rusty."

"If you don't want it I'll take it." Red X offered eagerly.

"**Terra wears it."** The Other snarled.

"Yes ma'am." Red X and Terra both squeaked at the same time.

(O)

Some bits of the facility were breaking apart. They had begun noticing it only a short while ago and neither Rorek nor Malchior were quite sure when and where it had started. At first it hadn't been anywhere near Raven, and now it seemed to be clinging to her. They were getting closer, though. If only she would stay in one spot for longer than fifteen minutes!

Something else that Malchior was noticing was that much of the movement and vibrations seemed to be aiming for some central point somewhat close to one of the exits. But Raven was not aiming for that area so he didn't either. He managed to find a path that would cross the hall she was currently traveling down and rushed down it.

"It's getting way too quiet. Where is everyone?" Jinx asked.

"Mal must be scaring them off." Beast Man answered.

"Or maybe he's killed them all." Cyborg offered.

"We should be so lucky." Nightwing snarled with uncharacteristic vehemence.

"Raven is close by." Rorek announced. In fact they were almost upon each other. Malchior stopped as they emerged into the hallway that Raven was traveling down towards, but what rounded the corner wasn't just Raven…it wasn't even Raven as herself.

"RAVEN! Oh no! They got her!" Jinx shrieked. "She's the demon! Run for it!"

"No, wait! That's just—TERRA!" Beast Man shouted.

"Terra? Terra!" Starfire cried.

"Slade!" Nightwing exclaimed, but with far less enthusiasm.

"B-Beast Boy!" a petite blond girl gasped as the green shifter flung his arms around her. Starfire looked like she wanted to hug the girl as well, but decided to leave it to the shifter for now.

Red X held his hands out, "Isn't anyone going to shout _my_ name? Come on, people."

"Sebastian!" Slade exclaimed.

"You're not funny!" Red X snapped at him.

"Red X! How did you get here? Weren't you on Azarath?"

"Yeah, about that, are you guys missing an Azarathian monk or something? 'Cause they put him in a fake Red X suit and he's pretending to be me now. You might want to let the monks know."

"Raven…"

"**You are using Blood Magic, My Black Dragon. Strange…it does not smell so repulsive."**

"The blood was sacrificed willingly and for the purpose of our freedom and survival. There was no sin, no crime…and no other way. How did you escape?"

"**The Mirabelle woman was easy to fool but not so easy to dissuade. Fortunately I learned of your escape and in that moment she lost the leash she had me on. Then she lost her life."**

"Wow, Beast Boy…you're not really a boy anymore, are you?"

"That's what I keep trying to tell everyone! It's Beast _Man_ now, I think they sort of got it, though."

"Beast Man…right…wow…"

"I knew you weren't gone forever…"

"So Damien's on Azarath?" Nightwing asked.

"And brainwashed by Blood Magic. Hopefully Yin and Yang can sort him out once they manage to tear their eyes off Her Royal Demonicness over here."

"You must be the infamous Batman. I must say it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I've heard many things about you."

"And I you. So, unfortunately, I can't say the same. What are you doing here?"

"Helping, if you must know. What's the point of conquering the world if it's in pieces? Besides, I have custody rights to discuss with Mother Mayhem before we can finalize the divorce."

"Custody r—Dude! I am 25-freaking-years-old! There is no _custody_!" Red X exclaimed.

"Good luck convincing a jury of that without that mask, Sebastian."

"Raveeeeeen! I'm one of yours now too, right? Don't let him take me!" Red X whined, putting a hand on Raven's shoulder to get her attention. This turned out to be a bad idea. Malchior grabbed that hand and flung it off, snarling.

"_Mine_!"

"Dude! I am not into your girlfriend! I just want her help!" Red X insisted. "What is it with the 'mine' thing, anyway? Honestly, you people are starting to sound like those seagulls on Finding Nemo."

Raven, who was The Other, gave him a look of consideration, as though wondering if he were worth it, then she seemed to make a decision and turned to Slade. **"Mine."** she declared. Red X's shoulders slumped with relief.

"Not that I have a problem with seagulls, mind you."

"Oh you have _got_ to be joking."

"**Mine."**

"Really liking the seagulls, actually."

"He _is_ my _son_, Raven."

"_**Mine**_**."**

"In fact, the seagulls were the best part of the movie."

"You are going to have a difficult time arguing your claim in a court of law, My Dear."

"**You will find it difficult to do any arguing at all without a head, Dead Man."**

"Best part of _any_ movie, _ever_."

"You really are _not_ being fair."

"You tried to take Nightwing away from us, then you stole Terra and used her to take over the city, _then_ after she threw you in the lava you come back to get your hands all over Raven so she'll bring Trigon back to destroy the world, and now you want us to be _fair_ and _let_ you kidnap Red X? Dude, you seriously have _some nerve_!" Beast Man exclaimed, pulling the one named 'Terra' behind him to shield her.

"I have done quite a lot to help you over the past few years. If it weren't for me, then the Church of Blood would have been quite a bit more active. A little recognition would be appreciated. Perhaps as a show of good faith, I can reveal some of what I've discovered that I don't think any of you have realized. For instance, Raven, aren't you still curious as to why you have so much power? Granted, a lot of magic-users seem to be getting more powerful, but does that explain _your_ boost, do you think?"

"**What do you know?"** The Other demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"I'll tell you, but I want to talk to the old Raven, the one who _didn't_ threaten me with horrible gruesome death in every other sentence." Slade answered.

(O)

The Other didn't like this idea. She never got much time to play and even then that thinking part of her still had so much power. But, she'd spilled quite a lot of blood. Maybe she could be satisfied. **"Very well, then."** she said. She closed her eyes.

Raven opened her eyes and blinked. It took her a moment to get used to the narrowed vision, and then another moment to get used to the greater ease with which her more complicated thoughts could take over. She rubbed her face a bit and felt Rorek at her shoulder, steadying her. Hundreds of thoughts and emotions were fighting for dominance, the most prominent of which was the revulsion at Malchior's current condition. She locked it all away, sealing it up tight. The last thing she wanted was for him to have any inkling as to just how horrified she was. Logic said that he'd had to do it; there was no other solution for them. Logic said that if he hadn't, they would all still be trapped. Oh, _maybe_ Slade would have decided to come to their rescue, if he knew they were there. But she wouldn't have bet anyone's life on it.

Logic couldn't seem to chase away these emotions, though. So she suppressed them with a great effort of will.

Once she had herself under control she focused on Slade.

"Alright," she said. "Where did my power come from?"

"Do you remember our battle with Trigon?" he asked.

"Vividly. In fact, sometimes I can go whole days without it crossing my mind."

"Who's Trigon?" Terra asked.

"Seriously bad news." Beast Boy answered.

Jinx scratched her head. "Hang on, isn't that an epithet for 'Scath'?" she asked. "As in, 'The Mark of Scath'? As in, 'avoid like the plague, don't even post this on the internet, not even to warn people, just get rid of whatever has it on there and hope it doesn't watch you sleep'?" she asked.

"Ah yes, you would know about the Mark of Scath, wouldn't you, Jinx? Glad to be out of the Academy?" Slade asked.

"Back to the subject at hand, please." Raven said.

"Of course. You know how powerful Trigon was,"

"_Is_." Raven corrected. "He isn't gone completely. The sorcerers on Azarath—"

Slade held up a hand to stop her, "Let me finish. Scath, Trigon the Terrible, was a being so powerful that he was going to lock an entire universe and most of its sub-dimensions into a state of timeless limbo. An effective form of destruction. He had already spread his power to other dimensions as he drew closer and closer to his release. And yet a small group of adolescent superheroes managed to take him down. Did anyone else notice that, the moment Robin brought you back from the edge of destruction, suddenly the battle turned? Before then we were merely flies nipping at his skin, and then suddenly I was able to land a strike on him that I did not expect to work. But, well, when you've got nothing to lose you have everything to fight for so I tried anyway. I was shocked to find that it had worked, and then the rest of your friends were actually managing to cause him worry. How was this? How could it be possible? Scath is an immortal being with near-limitless power. Well, as it turns out, that power was being drained.

"I began to suspect what was happening when his attack on you somehow did nothing more than give you a bit of your power back. And then you were gaining more and more power while Trigon was growing weaker until, at last, you completely overcame him. So what happened during that moment when your spellfire turned white and Trigon was obliterated?

"Before that moment, Raven, your power had come from Trigon, your father. Now, however, that power is all your own. You did not destroy Trigon, you _absorbed_ him. Oh I doubt you'll ever be _quite_ as powerful as he was – not with a human body, anyway – but the potential is there. Trigon is gone for good because his power is now yours." Slade chuckled. "Happy Birthday, Raven."

"Are you saying that I _ate_ Trigon?-!" Raven exclaimed.

"TRIGON IS YOUR FATHER?-!" Jinx shrieked.

"…This explains a few things…" Batman mused.

"Well _someone_ took that proverb a bit too literally." Malchior said, giving Raven a sidelong smirk. "With or without mustard?"

"I'm glad you find this amusing!" she huffed.

"An interesting way of putting it, but perhaps accurate in a sense." Slade mused.

"It _does_ explain your power boost…" Jinx said weakly.

"Are you sure about this?" Raven demanded.

"I obtained my proof of this theory when I lured you into that warehouse." he responded. The Mark of Scath appeared on his forehead and in one hand he crafted a ball of hellfire. "The power I gained from Trigon did not hurt you at all, did it? All it did was reveal your birthmarks once more but otherwise you felt nothing. That is because this power now comes from you, not him. And I can't very well use it against its source, can I? Another interesting fact I've discovered is that the metal it does not destroy is lead and any alloys containing more than 5% lead compound. I'm no expert on magic, but I do know that most advanced magic-users develop personal affinities for specific metals, stones, and elements. Would your affiliate metal happen to be lead, Raven?"

"Yes…" she admitted. "So why do you still have that power in the first place? And, further, why is it so much stronger now than it used to be?"

"I don't know." Slade answered, banishing the ball of hellfire. "Perhaps you simply haven't taken it away. As for why it's so much stronger, I don't know that either. It could be that Trigon was able to keep its more potent abilities suppressed. But I suspect it is because magic itself is becoming more prominent in recent years. From what I have researched, all magic-users are getting little boosts and people who previously were _not_ magic-users are finding themselves suddenly able to move feathers around with their minds. Interesting, isn't it?"

This was a lot to take in and she wasn't sure she could deal with it right now. It made so much sense, though! The way her power had changed after defeating Trigon, the way it had increased so much, felt so different, _was_ so different. So was her boost connected to the increase in magic? Had that been some sort of trigger? Or was it simply what she'd thought before; that exercising her body was giving it the ability to handle what power was there and, rather than gaining power, she was simply unlocking it?

She had absorbed Trigon. His power was hers. Maartuz…Well that explained why the sorcerers on Azarath could sense Trigon but not her. They _were_ sensing her! Well this was going to be fun to explain. 'Hi everyone! So, um, turns out I'm Trigon now, or rather I have his power. But that's okay because I'm one of the good guys!'

Somehow she didn't quite feel as though that was going to go over too well. They'd have to think of something else to tell Marlen Zanith and hope like _hell_ no one blabbed.

"So…the hellfire is actually _my_ power, we know this because it doesn't hurt me or any of my affiliate elements. But right now you've got it and I have no idea how to take it from you." Raven said.

"That does seem to be the case, doesn't it?" Slade responded.

"So, hang on, Raven ate Trigon…does this mean Trigon's contingency plan could still be carried out or no?" Nightwing asked.

"Speaking as a medic, I have to point out that Four-Eyes is in _entirely_ the wrong part of the lower torso for that mess." Cyborg answered.

"_Huh_? What contingency plan? And why would it involve Raven's stomach? What was his first plan? What is everyone talking about?-!" Terra exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"And you said _I_ was out of the loop." Red X snickered.

"Terra's been gone for four years. What's your excuse?" Raven snapped irritably.

"I was kidnapped by Psycho Magic Vampire Witch! How did she even get into my cell? That's what I want to know! I thought those things were tiny individual universes or something!" Red X complained.

"If she had a bit of your bone or blood then that would have only made it easier for her to find you and grab you. Were you wearing the rings?" Malchior asked.

"Yes!"

"_Before_ she slipped into your mind?"

"Uh…"

"Is someone going to tell me why these rusty rings are so special?" Terra demanded, pulling off a glove to wave the one she was wearing.

"They are not supposed to be rusty, I am afraid." Rorek told her.

"That's the one I was wearing when Mother Mayhem came to give me a visit so it got rusty." Raven explained.

"Take these." Rorek said, handing Terra a new pair. "They will protect you from all but the most potent of Blood Magic so do not get too close to Mother Mayhem. She is far too strong and they will rust."

"I need some too!" Red X exclaimed, darting hurriedly over to Rorek.

"Here, you should take another." Malchior said, handing Raven an extra ring for her left hand.

"Thanks…why are you half naked, by the way?"

"There was iron in my armor…and in that little button on my collar. It was too much bother to remove only the button. Besides, I think my markings are rather intimidating."

"Very intimidating. Are we done talking? We need to move." Batman said.

"Agreed. Right here, I think, Terra." Slade instructed, gesturing to a wall. Terra nodded and kicked it. The crack went deep and, Raven knew, would be aiming to join a bunch of other similar cracks with a very specific purpose in mind.

"What was that for?" Beast Boy asked.

"We're bringing the house down! Or rather, Terra is. Soon as we're out of here one more big earth-powered hit will be all we need." Red X explained.

"Good. But that will not be enough to kill Mother Mayhem." Rorek said.

"We are going to the center where the cultists appear to be gathering for some final showdown or something similarly cliché." Malchior told them. "Anyone who does not wish to fight to kill should find the exit and leave. We will not be taking prisoners."

"I'm coming." said Lady Eisen, drawing out her claymore.

"Me too. I've got some scores to settle." said Red X, cracking his knuckles.

"As do I." said Slade.

Raven read the spill words that Rorek was going through, repeating the same phrase in different ways as though trying to find the right way to make his request. "I'm coming too." she stated flatly. "This is my battle more than anyone else's."

'_She's right.'_ said Malchior's spill words. _'The sins of the parent stain the child. Unfair as it is, you know as well as I do that this __**is**__ her battle. She has to fight with us, no matter how much we don't want her to.'_ he told Rorek.

'_If she were our mate then we could take the burden from her and it would be __**our**__ battle.'_ Rorek responded, his words feeling despondent.

'_Yes, that's a great idea! Let's just go take her into that room over there, perform the bonding rite, and tell her to get her pretty face back to safety and let us big strong men handle everything. Yeah, that'll go over __**real**__ well. If we're really lucky then The Other will only kill us a little bit.'_

'_I was not suggesting—I didn't mean—I just want her to be safe!'_

'_News flash: she's extremely powerful. It's going to be really hard to convince anyone she should head for safety with any kind of reasoned argument.'_

Raven closed her eyes and wondered if she ought to tell them she could hear them. She felt really guilty for this, especially since it suddenly felt like she could read _their_ spill words far more strongly than anyone else's.

"I want to fight as well." Nightwing said.

"I would rather you not, My Friend. Potent as you are, I do not know that you would be safe. I do not like to think what would happen should your rings rust through." Rorek said. Then he gave Red X a sidelong look, but the antihero just crossed his arms over his chest, his body language expressing a distinct lack of any intention to leave. That surprised Raven. She would have thought Red X would want to be out of here. Maybe he wanted to be there to make sure Mother Mayhem actually died.

"Terra has a job to finish and so she will be leaving with you. She can show you the way out." Slade said.

Terra pushed her way around Beast Boy and gave Slade a look of pure loathing. "After this, I don't ever want to see you again. Got it?"

"Come now, Terra. Are you really so ungrateful? Would a visit or two really be so much to—" There was a very Other-sounding growl from Raven. "Understood." Slade amended.

"You guys know what we're up against. I think you two should make the call for the rest of us." Cyborg told Rorek and Malchior.

They looked at one another.

"Wouldn't Cyborg be in the most danger from Mother Mayhem? I mean, his very _body_ has iron in it. What if it rusts?" Nightwing asked.

"In fact, that is what is making us think he might not be in any danger at all." Rorek answered. "It is difficult to explain. But the iron of his body is living iron because it is intrinsically connected to his living, human thoughts. It may very well be too strong for even Mother Mayhem to rust, but I cannot be certain. It is up to you, Cyborg, whether you wish to take that chance or not."

Cyborg's eyes went stern. "I'm fighting." he stated, a hand turning into his laser cannon.

"I think the rest of you should leave. We shall join you as soon as possible." Rorek said.

"Understood. Let's go. Terra?" Batman asked.

"This way!" she said, leading the way.

That left Raven, Malchior, Rorek, Cyborg, Lady Eisen, Red X, and Slade. Raven looked at Malchior and Rorek. "You two are in charge." she declared. "But first, I'm getting out of this dress."

(8)

A/N: Yes, I decided to bring Terra back. Though, I admit, it does seem a bit far-fetched that she'd be helping Slade again, and believe that he's actually helping the Titans this time around. I also kind of imagine it taking him a while to get her to stop freaking out about the fact that he's still alive…

Coming up in the next chapter:  
Is your brain, like, the Raven Channel 24/7 or something?

Got a holiday planned out in November and this time I'll actually be leaving the state so I have an excuse not to do anything. I can't wait! :D


	51. Rotthurst

A/N: Not sure I like how this chapter came out but oh well.

(8)

_We have made an extensive study of the Kel, the Elder Scroll, in my possession. Thus far I have used none of its power and have kept it as a trophy rather than a source for my magic. He does not appear interested in the power, however. Rather he is interested in its origin and the nature of its enchantment. Through our combined efforts we unrolled the scroll and found within its chaos of text and symbols a diagram depicting the very spell of its creation. I scribed the diagram into my grimoire but I do not believe it is useable. My friend has encouraged me to study it in depth and suggested that alterations can be made._

_It occurred to me to question why he would take such interest in such a spell when there is no need for it any longer. His answer was that the puzzle would give me something difficult to focus my thoughts upon. That perhaps time might heal the wounds left by my betrayers, but it was not necessary for me to dwell upon it. With this in mind I have given much time and thought to the workings of the spell that can kill gods._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 51 – Rotthurst**

Raven emerged from the room pulling her hood up over her head. She couldn't help wondering why even the small unused rooms were being blasted with floodlights. It was enough to hurt her eyes. The constant blinding _whiteness_ of every wall, floor, and ceiling was starting to get to her. It was actually just a bit creepy, and not in a good way. It was all so _white_ that it made her cloak look just a bit gray.

"Let's go." said Malchior.

Malchior lead the way with Raven and Rorek flanking him, the rest of their party following behind.

They half-ran half-shuffled in silence. At least the kind of silence that you get when no one is talking. In truth it wasn't very quiet at all. Four members of their party were wearing metal footwear, which made a very loud ringing sound when it slammed down on marble. Oddly enough, Cyborg's footsteps were the softest despite him being the heaviest. That was probably because _his_ feet were coated with rubber soles like tennis shoes. As they ran Raven found herself looking down to be sure of her footing and she noticed something that chilled her and comforted her all in the same confusing package.

The brilliant floodlights were reflected so strongly off every available surface of white marble that whatever shadows the world possessed were very faint and did little more than add definition. That was a bit odd. Somehow it seemed to suggest that these people were aware that they had _something_ to be scared of. A lack of shadows wasn't going to save them from it, Raven knew. And that right there suggested that, while they knew to be scared, they didn't know enough about what they were scared _of_. She did, though. She didn't understand them, but she didn't need to. Perhaps she wasn't even supposed to. All she needed to understand was whatever they gave her to understand and that was enough. She did not need to fear them, but she _did_ need to be respectfully wary. And she understood enough to be very respectfully wary of the fact that, somehow, _she_ was casting a shadow even though no one else was. She hoped no one else would notice.

And they probably wouldn't have if she hadn't stared so fixedly at it for too long.

Rorek noticed. She could tell when she looked at him. She looked away again hurriedly, not really wanting to know what he _wasn't saying_.

They knew about this. Was she really surprised? Ru had told her that she wasn't the only one and that was kind of comforting. So…what did dragons know about girls who carried around the things that went snap-snarl in the night and collected them in chests? Did she want to know? Did she need to know? Was this really something they should talk about?

That was a worry for later, though. Right now it was dawning on her that another worry, a much, much _bigger_ worry, was building up around them.

She hadn't noticed until now because, until now, she hadn't been paying attention. Now she was, and now she felt it. Aside from the dark shape at her feet, there were no shadows in the building. Instead, they were gathering around outside the facility and circling it like wolves.

No…not like wolves. Like a storm. This mansion was sitting in the eye of a storm that was getting ready to draw itself in and come down in a funnel and…and she hoped like _hell_ that they were out of here before it happened – or that it didn't happen at all. And perhaps it wouldn't. If they could take care of this as humans should, then the storm might be appeased and would disperse.

Maybe…

They came upon a set of double doors that were barred with another Blood Magic seal. Apparently the cultists had given up fighting and were now trying to protect themselves. Or perhaps they were trying to appear that way to put the Titans (and Slade) off their guard. Either way, it didn't stop them for very long. Malchior put a hand on the doors and the seal melted away. Raven thought she saw a flash of something along his markings but she wasn't sure. Then he kicked the doors. They cracked, but did not give way. There had to be some physical barricade on the other side. Was the cult really that scared? Of them? Or were they scared of The Other?

"**Fus Ro DAH**!" Malchior roared.

The door blasted apart, clearing the way for the party to enter what turned out to be an enormous auditorium. Marble bleachers rose on every side; the scent of gore and Blood Magic hung in the air like smog. They found themselves in the center of a wide oval, and all around them were people huddling in the bleachers. Not nearly as many as Raven had expected, but enough. Five of them threw blasts of that organic-looking spellfire at them but Malchior's glittering red barrier blocked them. Raven stared at him. His markings and spellfire both shimmered as though filled with tiny white light bulbs. It didn't look anything whatsoever like the spellfire everyone else was using. Strange.

At the back of the auditorium was a high podium on which stood Mother Mayhem. She didn't look very high and mighty, though. Even from here, Raven could tell that things weren't going the way she'd planned. There was a mirror behind her, but it was dark and showed no blond gods that Raven could see. Had they abandoned her then?

"Come on, woman!" Malchior roared. "Let us match the power of theft with that of the willing sacrifice!" He threw an enormous blast of his shimmering spellfire at Mother Mayhem, who vanished before it hit her and reappeared right in front of them. She was holding a large crystal inside which was something red and purple and…_organic_. Raven didn't have too much time to look. Malchior was drawing back and there was a mad smile on Mother Mayhem's face.

"Challenge accepted." She did not shout, but her voice boomed throughout the auditorium. And then she began to change into…no…everything began to change. There was a twisting feeling, a warping, Raven's eyes seemed to stop working properly because she couldn't make any sense of whatever input they were giving her. Colors were all wrong, shapes…it…

She heard someone shout her name. Heard some others generally shouting. An then…

Raven opened her eyes. Had she closed them? At first she couldn't understand what she was seeing. And then the world began to make sense as her mind found things to compare it to.

It was like…it felt like a dreamscape that had been imposed on reality somehow. Only it wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. Not the normal kind where your socks come to life and started nibbling your toes, no. It was the kind that is either dreamt up by someone on some powerful hallucinogens who's had a long list of grotesque and horrifying experiences to reference, or by someone sitting down and thinking very hard about nightmarish things. Either way, it looked to her like they had started with ideas of rust, internal organs, and barbed wire and then let it get completely out of hand, incorporating wobbly green things and, in this area, what appeared to be a dog-shaped glang of the sort that Raven had seen when battling Sister Fear. She had thought that, perhaps, the look and powers of glang might be subject to whoever crafted them but that didn't seem to be the case. Instead it seemed to her that there were probably multiple types of glang, and this was the weaker, or lesser, of those types. At least when compared to the glang she'd seen when her team got captured.

Raven tore the lesser glang to pieces with a burst of power and looked around. She was alone. But where? What was this place? What had Mother Mayhem done?

The scent and feel of Blood Magic was everywhere. Some bits of the nightmare-scape looked organic, like the spellfire. The very floor appeared to be made of…of…

Raven looked away and immediately levitated several inches from a ground she chose to believe only _looked_ like thousands of human bodies crushed tightly together. Movies, video games, graphic novels, and macabre art could lay it on thick and it wouldn't affect you. But seeing that sort of thing in the safe medium of imaginary expression was one thing. In real life it was a completely new experience. You couldn't replicate the stench, the feel of the air, the taste of it in your mouth, the clammy sensations, or the mild pulsing vibrations that hit you somewhere ears didn't go. Not with nothing more than sight and sound as your medium.

She got a hold of herself and began to move. Now was not the time to freak out. She could do that in the safety of the tower once they had stopped Mother Mayhem. Right now the important thing was to find the others. She started flying, navigating the…structures that stretched here and there and there in web or vine-like ways, revealing other random surfaces of what she might have called the ground if she were at all willing to step on it. She looked down at her left hand. The iron ring was only a bit tarnished, but tarnish there was. That meant they only had so much time to get through this, whatever this was, before the others were left unprotected. She did not even want to _think_ about what this place might do to them without these rings.

She started calling out names. A few lesser glang attacked her and were destroyed for their trouble. Then one of the large, man-shaped glang actually managed to grab her, only to release her the next second. When she turned to see what had stopped it she froze.

She tried not to look at it too closely but she couldn't stop herself. Its body was gray and blotchy, its head was covered with shaggy black hair that obscured its face – if it even had a face – and it was…its head was…it looked like the hair was _eating_ the glang. Raven couldn't quite describe how. It was exactly like in a dream where one thing could become another without any in-between state, though there was a sense or memory of a change that had not been described. When the glang was gone the creature looked up. Somehow she was able to make out the texture of a pair of buttons through that ink-black hair. Buttons where eyes might be if it had eyes.

Raven shivered a little and watched as the creature melted back into her shadow. By all accounts she shouldn't have one here either. What small bit of light existed was very dim, almost nothing. But she had always been able to see in near pitch black. The smallest amount of light was all she needed and there wasn't nearly enough here for a shadow. Yet there it was.

Suddenly she realized just how terrible this must be for the others. Cyborg had a flashlight he could use, but what about Red X and Lady Eisen? Well, X probably had night vision in that suit and maybe Lady Eisen had inherited good eyes from her mother. Still…

It was really, _really_ hard to care too much about Slade, but Raven was quite sure his hellfire was providing plenty of light and protection for him.

A bright blue beam of laser fire shooting to her left and a loud cry of "BOO-YAH!" told her that Cyborg was nearby and doing quite well for himself. She aimed in the direction the laser had come from and found the metal man unleashing his fury upon a _huge_ monster that appeared to be made from the floor. It wasn't familiar as a glang since the lesser glang were solid and this looked to be made up of bits squished together, but perhaps it was simply another kind. She didn't know. The twins had never explained the glang to her in any depth. All she knew was that it was a really bad idea to let them coat you or surround you.

"Bad dog! Down!" Cyborg yelled, grabbing the thing by its…face, and throwing it against a wall. Raven enveloped it in her power and tore it to pieces like the other glang she'd been fighting. "Raven! Man am I glad to see you!" Cyborg exclaimed. "Silent Hill ain't got _nothing_ on this place. Where are we? What happened back there? My cybernetic eye recorded something seriously messed up. Something like that video in The Ring, only in color. Mostly red, but that's still a color." he said.

"I have no idea where we are." she answered. "Is your cybernetic eye recording all of this?" she asked, gesturing around.

"Uh, yeah. Wonder how much I could get by selling the video file to Konami." he answered.

"Then this isn't just some illusion or shared hallucination." she mused. It was possible, but _very difficult_, to create a magical illusion of the sort that could trick a camera. A fact that the movie-making industry was a bit irritated about. You had to enchant the camera in order for it to pick up illusions like that. Then, at the end of the day, it was just as expensive to find and pay magic-users to make the illusions – plus someone who could and would enchant the cameras to pick them up – as it was to just go in and add the special effects digitally.

It was not, however, possible to do that sort of thing on _this scale_. So they were in some kind of different dimension or…something. She wasn't sure.

"Come on, let's find the others." she said, picking Cyborg up with her power and carrying him with her. "You know, it occurs to me that you could install some kind of jet pack."

"I've been trying to figure that mess out but it's _impossible_ to steer!" he exclaimed.

"If only you weren't opposed to combining magic with technology on your chassis…and didn't have good reason for it." she mused.

"Well I—hang on, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"Stop a second. Look over there. Do you see that? My robot eye is picking up something weird. Looks kinda white."

"You think it could be the way out?"

"Only one way to find out."

Raven nodded and, still carrying Cyborg, flew in the direction he was pointing until she saw the white as well. Only…it didn't look like marble. Instead it was…

Snow?

(O)

Up top in the dilapidated mansion, the situation was…confusing.

The confusion had apparently begun when Flash, Kid Flash, and Green Lantern had emerged with the captives into a mansion full of hired thugs on guard and, apparently, Kid Flash had neglected to tell the other two that they were there. This might not have been a problem if the captives themselves hadn't…weren't…didn't…

No one was quite sure what happened. The fight was still going on but what seemed to be all but a handful of the people they had _tried_ to save had gotten themselves killed. On purpose. This multi-suicide had freaked out a lot of the thugs, especially the superstitious sort who hadn't wanted to be there in the first place, and some had run for it. Most hadn't, though. One of them, the black man in the white suit and diamond-studded teeth, had appeared out of nowhere and took out Flash by cracking him across the head with his bare fist. Kid Flash and Green Lantern were holding their own, trying to protect the leftover captives, but this guy was unimaginatively called 'Phantom' for a very good reason. Green Lantern's shield couldn't seem to block whatever teleportation power he possessed and Kid Flash couldn't hit a target that wasn't actually there. On top of that they had other cronies to deal with; some of whom had powers that might not be quite as problematic if they could focus.

Then, for some reason neither of them could understand, the woman with wings tattooed on her bald head had started screaming in something that sounded like Russian before she sent a knife into the back of Phantom's head. This strike had _hit_ him…but he was still moving. After that it was complete chaos. Neither Green Lantern nor Kid Flash could quite tell who was fighting with them and who was fighting against them. It was especially difficult since a lot of them seemed to be shouting in freaking _Russian_. So the two still-standing super heroes were just standing at the exit with a shield up watching the fight in bewilderment.

At the moment someone was standing over one of the suicidal captives, screaming and gesticulating wildly, trying to get some attention. They got a knife in the gut for their trouble.

"This is insane! I don't know who to help and who to fight!" Green Lantern exclaimed.

A few sharp pointy…_stuff_ flew in their direction and was stopped by Green Lantern's barrier. There were some gunshots in the distance.

"We have to get the captives out of here so they're _all_ in the way." Nightwing stated. "Starfire, you keep a lookout for Phantom. Beast Man, we need an elephant. Jinx, do you think you can trip the fire alarm and get those sprinklers going?"

"No! Not an elephant! If you stomp too hard you might trigger the collapse!" Terra exclaimed.

"Ah, good point." Nightwing scratched his head. "Ideas?"

"I can do more than trip the sprinklers of Green Man will take the shield down for a second." Jinx said.

"Alright, do it."

Green Lantern made an opening in his shield for Jinx and she let her spellfire fly. Not only did the sprinklers go off, but weapons flew up into the air and began to bludgeon their previous users. It was almost ridiculous how well and how swiftly this worked. Even hardened muscle men who appeared to lack the proper cranial capacity for superstition were spooked and cleared out whether they had weapons of their own or not. Very few still remained afterwards to glare at the heroes. One of them was the bald Russian.

"I not leave before Rusalka die." she declared.

"Not happening, there, Angel." said Phantom, appearing along the far wall. He reached behind and yanked the knife out of his head. "That hurt, by the way."

"Ugh…what hit me?" Flash asked muzzily, finally coming around.

"You can do what you like. We're getting these people out of here one way or another." Green Lantern said stoutly.

"Wait, who's Rusal-whatever?" asked Beast Man.

"No can do, Green Man. The good mother would be mighty angry with me if'n I let ya'll go stealing her flock away." said Phantom.

"That sounded SO wrong on SO many levels." Jinx said with a shudder.

"Rusalka is what the Russian Mafia call Mother Mayhem." Batman explained. "She's made quite a name for herself. Roughly translated, the saying passing around is something to the effect of, 'No one refuses Rusalka', though the proper wording has a slightly more ominous context indicating the threat of a curse if the advice is not followed."

"That's right, ya'll. I don't know how you managed to slip out of your little cage and I don't have to. You're going right back in, whether it's in one piece or t—" BANG! "DAMN IT WOMAN!" he shouted, clutching his hip where the one he'd called 'Angel' just shot him with a gun she pulled out of nowhere. "Who's side are you on?-!"

"Not yours." she shot again, but this bullet went right through him – something that could only mean he wasn't where he appeared to be anymore.

Previous image still in place, Phantom appeared behind the woman only get smacked with the full force of Jinx's pink spellfire, which pulled his tie so tight that it suddenly had all his attention, giving Angel (who was proof that there were probably only so many proper super hero/villain names out there before you started getting in each other's business) a clear shot. She caught him three times directly in the face. Then she growled something in Russian. Batman responded. Then she gave them a horrible smile, said something else, got an answer, and nodded.

"I help hyu. Rusalka die. Hyu promise?" she said in English.

"Looks like you already helped us." Flash observed.

"Him? He not dead. Cut head off und bury head between him legs with stone in mouth. He stay maybe. Come." she gestured with her gun. "We go not-know way. Hyu," she pointed her gun at the two remaining thugs who had frozen in the act of trying to figure out what they should do. "Hyu carry body. Do."

The heroes all looked at one another.

"Does anyone have any better ideas besides trying to blast our way through more small-room battle fields?" Beast Man asked.

"None. Let's go." Batman responded.

(O)

It was snow. And it was cold, but in a strange way. Raven could feel the cold and it felt very biting, but it seemed to her that the chill was somehow staying _outside_ her body. She looked around. There was, well, snow. Lots of snow, snow and trees. In fact, suddenly, the snow was everywhere, even back the way she'd come.

And Cyborg was nowhere.

It didn't look real, though. The bare trees with snow packed into their branches were too uniform. The path she was hovering over was too even and straight with a layer of snow that looked like it had not only just fallen but had been meticulously smoothed out so that no bit of snow was higher than the other. There were no footprints, no drifts, no imperfections anywhere. This place was like a drawing done by someone who just needed a basic background for something to happen in.

She turned about, not letting her feet touch the snow. She didn't believe for a moment that it was _real_ snow. Which way should she go? Back the way she'd come? Where would that lead? And where was Cyborg?

When she turned to look behind her for the third time she suddenly found herself facing an enormous mirror, bordered by crystals – or crystal-shaped ice. At first it reflected her startled expression, and then the reflection changed.

The woman on the other side was very tall. At least 6 feet, perhaps even 7. Her pale golden hair cascaded down all the way to the ground, accompanied by strings of pearls and jewels and golden chains that hung from her crown-like headdress. She was wearing a different dress, though. This one was somewhat simple, but still white. It was bound at the waist by an ornate belt of gold and jewels. It and had slits on either side that went very far up her thighs and there was a white shawl that loosely looped her arms at the elbows. It seemed to Raven that the dress was only there to cover the woman. What she was _really_ wearing was jewelry. Gold glittered from necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, and ornaments hanging from various parts of her person. It might have looked gaudy, it _should_ have looked gaudy, but on her…

The woman was smiling. But it was a smile that touched only her lips. Her eyes were as cold as the snow. Colder. Cold and beautiful…kind of like…

"It's the rings that are making you cold, Dear. You should take them off. Please?"

The rings _did_ seem to be biting into her skin. Quite painfully, too.

"I'll tell you where your friend is. Just take off the rings so I can speak to you properly. Come now, do you really need them? With your power? _You_ defeated Scath, did you not? What harm could I possibly do to you?"

_Don't._

Raven looked back up and stared into the woman's eyes. 'Thing', they said. 'Thing, perhaps a pet, if you are amusing enough.'

A Tartarian god. Someone who had fallen so far that they deserved to be locked away forever. Raven could see why. She could see it _clearly_.

The woman glowered. Even her glower was beautiful, though. Again she spoke in a language Raven didn't understand. Suddenly, though, she was cut off. There was an enraged yell, and then something hit the mirror from the other side. Repeatedly. Raven got a hold of herself and flew out of the way just as the mirror tipped over and hit the snow, cracked.

Then Cyborg, still shouting, began to jump up and down on it. Eventually Raven was able to shake herself enough to make out the words.

"—MAMA IS SO UGLY THE TIDE WOULDN'T TAKE HER OUT! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, ANYWAY?-! YOU'RE ALL, 'OOOO, LOOK AT ME! I'M SO REFLECTIVE!' I COULD BE SHINY TOO IF I WANTED TO I JUST CHOOSE NOT TO YOU TWO-DIMENSIONAL PIECE OF—Oh…hey there Rae…um…" He looked at her, looked down at the mirror that had shattered under his large metal feet, then looked back up at her and gave her a nervous grin. "It was mocking me?" he offered by way of an explanation.

"Yeah, mirrors do that sometimes…" Raven returned weakly. _Especially that one._ she thought. "That wasn't a normal mirror, though."

"So…I'm not going to get 7 years' bad luck?" he asked.

"Cyborg," she began in a patient voice. "The only reason that superstition even _started_ is because mirrors used to be so expensive that it took the average worker seven years to pay them off. So that's seven years of having only a portion of your money to live off. So that—"

Something let out a sound that was somewhere between a shriek of fury and a snarl. Raven whirled around and—saw the nightmare world again. She blinked and looked back at Cyborg. He was looking just as confused and uncertain, though. The snow was gone. The mirror was gone. The ground was covered in that grotesque pattern once again.

"Did you do that?" she asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." he answered.

"Did your robot eye record anything?" she asked him.

"To be honest, all it got was static the entire time we were there. It's recording normally now, though."

"Weird…"

"Let's not stick around."

"Agreed."

(O)

Red X swore. Then he swore again as the night vision kicked in and he got a good look at his surroundings. The green hue the night vision gave him did not make it any better than it would be if it were red like he was sure it ought to be. In fact, green was probably worse. It gave a feel of rot and mold to what was already a gut-clearing sight. He really wanted to throw up but managed to get a hold of himself. He'd been through this and worse, after all.

Right, now…where was everyone?

He heard some shouting and he ran towards it, very carefully _not_ looking too closely at the ground. As he got closer, dodging around more stuff he wasn't looking at too closely, he realized the shout had words in it. One word, actually.

"Raven! Raven!"

"Honestly, Red Eyes, you'd think the rest of us were just not that important to you." Red X called.

Above him the mostly-white figure turned and looked down.

"Christ!" X swore, tapping at his mask even though he knew it wasn't the mask's fault, whatever this was. "That's not supposed to be possible with night vision stuff. How the hell are your eyes still red when everything should be green?" he demanded.

Malchior landed in front of X, his blood red irises and white skin both appeared to be glowing, but his eyes stood out like a paper cut. "Can those gadgets of yours find people?" he demanded.

"Your mumbo-jumbo not working here?" X asked.

Malchior shook his head. "This is a dimension of magic. Blood Magic, to be exact. We are within something called a Rotthurst, a holder of sorts. Normal magics – particularly anything more complex than a light spell – are not going to work the way they should and I do not have time to figure out how to make them work." he explained.

"Gotcha. Well the suit has heat vision. You think that might work?"

"Would it hurt to try?"

"Nope, guess not." Red X tapped a notch in his mask. He jumped. "Dude! Do you have a fever or something? I'm clocking you at 120 degrees! Oh, wait, that's right, you're a dragon. That's normal, then?"

"How do you know I am a dragon? I don't remember anyone telling you."

"Mirabelle told me. She was bragging about how they knew how to deal with dragons. I expressed my doubt and bet her 20 bucks you'd escape. Totally called it, but she died before she could pay up. Oh well. So, I'm looking for someone specific, am I?" he asked, looking around through the heat vision.

"I admit I have my priorities." Malchior answered coolly.

"What about your other half?"

"I _know_ Rorek is fine. It's Raven I worry about."

"Is your brain, like, the Raven Channel 24/7 or something?"

"Tell me, have _you_ ever been in love?"

"Hell no. I've never even had a girlfriend. Been on the run most of my life. That's not exactly the best kind of situation to be thinking about girls in any more than the typical philanthropic way that is just oh-so-manly these days." Well, that wasn't entirely true. If he were honest with himself, he kind of wanted something a bit more with a certain specific sorceress. But considering the fact that he very much did not want to become a pile of black crunchy bits right now he wasn't about to tell Red Eyes any such thing.

"Put it like this: Considering everything your mind _could_ be dwelling on when either idle or in a situation like this, what would you rather be thinking about? Your possible death, your mother, or a pretty girl?"

"…That pink-haired girl with the cat-eyes was really cute. Is she single?"

Red X was still searching the area, peering closely at all the shifts in color, so he wasn't actually _looking_ at Malchior. Still he was pretty sure the guy was smirking when he said, "I'm afraid not. Besides, she seems a bit controlling to me. Like she might slap you around a bit more than necessary."

"More than necessary? So Raven slaps you around a necessary amount?"

"Only when I deserve it."

"Oh, dude! TMI, man!"

"What? What did I say?"

"Oh don't give me that innocent tone! It was the _way_ you said it!"

"My goodness, someone has their mind in the gutter."

"Yeah, well, you're right about one thing: Thinking about girls is infinitely better than thinking about this. I've spotted something, by the way."

"What? Where?"

"That way." He pointed. "Looks like a human figure of normal body temperature. Oh, and it's got boo—I mean, it has a feminine shape. Very feminine, in fact. Could be Raven, could be Eisen. Moving in a sort of diagonal with someone who looks like a head with the body of freaking Orion or something. Is that normal for machines? I don't use this thing very often. Oh well. I'd hurry. They're moving away from us."

"Oph-I mean, Lady Eisen is with Rorek. That will be Raven and most likely Cyborg. Let's go."

"Whoa, hang on! What are you doing?"

"Can you fly?"

"Well no, but—"

"But nothing. This is not the sort of landscape to be grounded on. Have you seen what you are standing on?"

"Kinda trying not to look too closely at anything. Vague impressions are enough for me. It just feels kind of weird being carried by another dude."

"You would rather be carried by a girl?"

"Good point. At least you're not trying bridal-style or anything."

"I think that would make us both a bit uncomfortable."

"Yes, 'cause we are both so very manly. Especially in this position."

"Do you _want_ me to leave you behind?"

"No, no, I'll shut up now."

(O)

"Whoa…"

"That's…not good…"

"I feel kinda guilty…but probably not as much as I probably should."

"Feeling guilty that you don't feel as guilty as you think you should?"

"Something like that. I thought hellfire trumped Blood Magic, though."

"So did I. I guess…" Raven looked around, not sure what she meant to say. "Maybe hellfire is purely offensive…not defensive." She looked down at the ring on her left hand. The tarnish was a bit darker now but there was no rust yet. They still had some time. She was more worried about Red X than the twins or Lady Eisen, though. She'd like to think Mother Mayhem wouldn't hurt her own son. But, she realized in a dull sort of way, Slade had been her husband. And look what she'd done to _him_. Actually, Raven didn't really want to look. Much as she hated him, he _had_ been trying to help them, even if it was for his own selfish reasons.

And he was very obviously dead this time. You simply could not be in that many pieces and come back. Even a necromancer of the deepest level would have trouble getting a skeletal warrior out of _this_.

She shivered slightly.

"You think Mother Mayhem got to him herself or…" Cyborg trailed off, but Raven caught the spill words. _'Or is that what happens when we don't have iron on us?'_

"We need to find Red X." she stated. Rorek had the other Nibelungen ring while Malchior was jacked out on his own Blood Magic. Lady Eisen was covered from head to foot in iron so Red X was likely in the greatest danger now, especially if Mother Mayhem was on the prowl. "Do you think you can locate the suit?" she asked him.

"Nu-uh. Nightwing knew what he was doing when he made that suit. It doesn't show up on my sensors – even with the upgrades. What about you? Can't you track him down?"

"I can try, but things feel…funny here. I don't know if my powers are going to work right." she answered. She closed her eyes and reached out tentatively with her senses. Then she yanked her barriers right back up, found an unobtrusive spot, and was promptly sick.

"I'm…uh…not going to ask." Cyborg said.

"Good…don't think I could explain anyway." she heaved, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

It was _everywhere_. Like this entire world was some massive living _thing_ with a mind that wasn't a mind just a…a huge wad of…of _something_! She'd felt it, as though it were an entity but it wasn't. It was…so very _wrong_. But it was some particular kind of wrong. Like it wasn't wrong in and of itself, though it was bad enough like that anyway. It was more…there was…it felt like something that had been meant to be good had been turned and twisted so much that only the vague shape of what it had once been remained. It was like the wrongness you got when you took something that was supposed to be familiar and comforting, left the familiarity, but removed the comforting part and replaced it with fear. Like an evil teddy bear or something. An adult might laugh at that, but a kid who loved teddy bears wouldn't find that at all funny.

"Uh, Raven?"

Raven looked up.

There was a glang, one of the tall ones, standing right next to her. It reached out and…hesitated.

"Cyborg…turn around." Raven instructed with manic sweetness.

"Um, why?"

"Because I don't want you to see what I'm about to do in case you never want to see me again." Which was a bit of a lie. _She_ wasn't about to do anything.

Cyborg turned around. The glang turned as well and tried to run. It didn't get very far.

It had tried to run.

Raven shivered. Why had it run? Why did they seem to show fear? In order to fear you had to have some sense of self-preservation…which meant you had a sense of self even if it was only animal. But magical constructs did _not_ have even an animal's sense of self. They could be made or 'programmed' to avoid damage, but these creatures showed fear and hesitation.

She decided not to think about it too much. It was too unsettling.

"Alright." she announced to Cyborg. He turned around.

"So, where to now?" he asked.

"I don't—"

"Raven!"

She looked up and around. Red X was flying towards them by way of a Malchior jetpack. She sighed with relief. "Red X! Malchior! Where's Rorek? And have you seen Lady Eisen?" she asked.

"Rorek is on his way and Lady Eisen is with him." Malchior answered, letting Red X down gently.

"Ow!" Red X exclaimed, putting his hands over the eyes of his mask. "LED flashlights and night-vision do NOT work well together, Tin Man!" he said, adjusting something on his mask.

"So-_rry_, but some of us don't like relying on technology when there's a whole freak'n load of magic in the area." Cyborg said. By unspoken agreement, he and Raven were blocking the…um…bits. With any luck, Red X wouldn't see it…him…

They would tell him later.

"So now we just have to track down Slade and then it's Boss Fight time, right?" Or not.

"Um…" Cyborg shifted uncomfortably.

"What?" Red X asked.

"I'm not sure how you're going to take this, but…" Raven sighed and stood aside. "We found Slade."

Cyborg let his flashlight turn towards the…bits.

"Oh…" Red X said faintly. "Damn…I mean…I didn't like him or anything but, I mean…what happened?"

"We don't know. It could be that's what happens to you when you don't have any iron rings in this place." Raven suggested, looking at Malchior for confirmation. But he shook his head.

"That would not have done him any favors, but his hellfire would have protected him. No. Mother Mayhem herself would have done this."

"Looks like there's no more blood in his body…" Red X observed.

"And _that_ is what probably happened when he lost his hellfire. This place is like a type of glang so try not to lose any blood and very definitely do not remove your iron." Malchior said.

"No problem." Cyborg said, grinning. He had iron rings on his fingers, but from what Rorek had said about his body being made of living iron, Raven wondered if he needed them.

"What is the difference between lesser glang and those other glang? The ones with the black bodies and white heads?" Raven asked.

"The lesser glang are made on the spot with raw Blood Magic. Those other glang have been around since time eternal to serve the masters of Blood Magic, at least that's what Mirabelle said." Red X answered.

"Inaccurate. The true glang, or higher glang, are long-lasting, it is true. But they are constructs, golems of Blood Magic." Malchior told him.

"Good thing the witches didn't know that! There are enough of those things running around as it is." Red X said.

"Fewer now." Raven said. "I got two down here."

"I destroyed one and Rorek destroyed two while we were trying to find you. I wonder how many more there are." Malchior said.

"At least 12, last time I was here. Which was about a year ago. Will they die when we kill Mother Mayhem?" Red X asked.

"I'm afraid not. But if the rest are here then they will die when we destroy the Rotthurst." Malchior answered. He paused. "Rorek and Eisen have found something." he told them.

"What is it?" Raven asked.

"The core."

(8)

A/N: Dang, that overtime check was pretty sweet. Still wishing we had more people so things wouldn't be so crazy, though. Unfortunately, despite the overwhelming number of people out there looking for a job, not all of them have a clean background and, unfortunately, payroll companies HAVE to be very, very picky about who they hire when it comes to the background. Sad, isn't it?

Coming up in the next chapter:  
I will hunt you down, tie you to a chair, and force you to watch 24 hours of bad internet flash cartoons non-stop!

Angel and Angel might have the same name but Baldy's name would be pronounced 'ahn-geh-l' with a 'guh' sound instead of a 'juh' sound. I kinda like that pronunciation better for some reason.


	52. Paid In Flesh

A/N: Dun, dun, DUUUUUN! :D

(8)

_Hrist has found me in my sanctuary. She came to me during the night when my friend was gone and attempted to sway my decision to stay. She has tried to sway me against my benefactor, the one individual in this world who understands my plight. She told me that he intends to use me against the High Priest but I laughed in her face. The dragons' king has no love for me. How could he? All this time our friendship was a falsehood. How could a dragon chosen by Iiam Bormah himself deign to befriend the son of The Putrid One? I sent her away._

_My friend has vast knowledge of fire for it is his affiliate element. I have begun to study extensively under his direction, though he insists my affiliate element to be fire's opposite. He approves of my preference, however, and we have practiced for many long hours together. Fire is life, fire is power._

_For dragons the Thu'um provides only three affiliate elements. Fire, ice, and lightening. The High Priest is of all three._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 52 – Paid In Flesh**

It turned out that Angel's back way wasn't even necessary. If they had only waited another ten minutes everything would have been over. It was over, at least on the surface.

"Friend of hyu?" Angel asked, adding something else in Russian that she directed to Batman, who nodded and replied.

"These are monks from Azarath! But, how did they know we were here?" Beast Man asked, astonished.

"Why don't we go ask the Patriarch?" Nightwing suggested, pointing.

"Is that Marlen Zanith?" Batman asked.

"Yeah, you know him?" Nightwing questioned.

"We have corresponded, yes. Raven gave him my e-mail address and I've been assisting some of their operations. They have managed to track down quite a few minor factions of the Church of Blood but none of them have been participating in the Blood Magic." Batman replied.

It was hard to figure out what was going on in the chaos. It was dark, there was a lot of shouting, a considerable amount of violence, but it seemed as though the monks were neutralizing the hired muscle. This wouldn't have been quite as much of a problem if it wasn't for the fact that they _were_ trying to take these people _alive_. Weapons were removed, but not all of these people had or even needed weapons.

Fortunately Marlen Zanith was easy to spot. He was the only one wearing long gray robes, he was standing outside of the chaos, and there were large orbs of light hovering over him providing all the illumination the post-battlefield had had. Some idiots were attempting to shoot him, of course, but their bullets appeared to be hitting some invisible barrier. He was also standing next to the Martian Manhunter and Wonder Woman. The two of them spotted the group as it approached.

"Batman, Lantern, Flash! We got your signal, what happened? What's going on?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Boy have we got some stories to tell." said Flash.

"Where's Raven? Is she with you?" Marlen Zanith demanded sharply.

"No, she and some of the others are in the basement levels fighting Mother Mayhem." Nightwing answered. "By the way, somehow Mother Mayhem managed to snatch Red X. The Red X you have in your cells right now is a brainwashed Damien in a fake suit."

"_What_!-?" Zanith shook his head, then he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Alright, who are all these people with you?" he asked.

"Victims…or rather, some of them. The others…"

"The others committed suicide the first chance they got." Batman finished.

Zanith sighed. He did not look surprised. "Alright, I think we have things wrapped up on the surface here. How do we get into the basement levels?" he asked.

"Don't!" Terra said, rushing forward. "As soon as Raven and the others come back I'm going to collapse the entire thing. The facility is already pretty unstable as it is. It'd be easier if we could keep everyone up here and wait."

"What if there are other victims down there?" the Martian Manhunter asked in alarm.

"We don't have much of a choice, now. You can't teleport down there or in there and we don't have time to do a thorough search." Jinx came in.

"J'onn's powers might not be affected by magic." Batman reasoned. "Here, take these and see what you can find. But whatever you do, don't engage anyone. Just look." he said. He gave the Martian Manhunter the rings on his fingers.

"What do I do with these?" J'onn asked.

"Put them on. They'll protect you from most Blood Magic." Batman answered. "We need to get these people out of here as soon as possible."

"We will take care of them." Zanith told him. "We have retained records and techniques for such a situation. They will never be the same as before, but if they still have some will to live then they can regain some semblance of life."

"How did you know we were here?" Nightwing asked.

"Raven contacted a field agent and told them what was going on right before she teleported her team here. Told us exactly where you were and not to come unless we had a significant force mustered. I'm sorry it took this long for us to arrive." Zanith explained.

"She didn't tell us she contacted you." Kid Flash said, frowning.

"I bet she didn't want anyone to accidentally spoil the surprise." Flash considered.

"Rusalka die?" Angel demanded, prodding Batman for some information. He turned to her and rattled out a length of Russian. Marlen Zanith turned to Nightwing and gestured to the two that were currently carrying the body of Phantom.

"I'm guessing they're not victims."

"Uh, no, they're sort of helping us. Sort of. We're not entirely sure who's side that Angel woman is on but she was the one who started all the fighting amongst the thugs themselves. Apparently a lot of them didn't really want to be here." Nightwing answered.

"And the dead body? I notice it has multiple gunshots to the face but appears to be twitching slightly."

With a yelp, the two luckless musclemen dropped Phantom to the ground and bolted. No one bothered to stop them. Phantom groaned and pushed himself shakily to his feet. His face was a complete wreck but he was somehow still able to lift it and look around with only one working eye. Before Angel could shoot him down again, though, Marlen Zanith stepped forward. Phantom saw him and seemed to freeze.

"Oh _hell_ no…" he said. It would probably be inaccurate to say he looked like he knew _who_ Zanith was. Instead it seemed to Nightwing that he could tell _what_ Zanith was and that was enough.

"Oh hell yes." Zanith chuckled, a knife of some sort appearing in his hand. It had a line of odd characters along the blade that were brought into sharp relief when he turned it to catch the light. Nightwing thought they looked a bit like dancing people in a vague sort of way. "Nice trick there, Sonny Jim, but I've seen it before."

(O)

It looked like a human heart. Pumping and pulsing, it sent out an a-rhythmical 'thud, thud-thud, thud…thud…thud-thud thud' that grated on the ears, the head, and her very skin. It was suspended just above an enormous platform that had a bottomless abyss below, hanging on what had to be hundreds of tendrils of varying sizes. It was also crawling with lesser glang.

Neither Rorek nor Lady Eisen had dared to approach it alone. They hovered nearby waiting for the rest of the party to arrive, Cyborg and Red X being levitated by Raven's power. It occurred to her then that, in this instance, they were probably going to be more of a liability than a help. She didn't even want to know what was down below that platform and what might happen should they fall in.

"What's the battle plan?" Red X asked. He looked at Raven, but Raven looked at the twins.

"You two know what this is, right?" she asked.

"We are inside a Rotthurst, an yes, we have been in one before." Malchior told her.

"Only once, though. After that we perfected a technique that allowed us to destroy one from outside. Obviously that won't help us here, though." Rorek said.

"We need to cut down the core." Malchior said. "That means destroying every last one of those tethers and quickly. See the lesser glang? They can repair a tether in five minutes, maybe less maybe more."

"I can take care of them." Raven said.

"We will undoubtedly gain the immediate attention of Mother Mayhem as well." Rorek said. "Malchior and I will fight Mother Mayhem. Raven will deal with the glang. The rest of you need to cut down that core." he instructed.

Cyborg's arm turned into his laser cannon. "You got it." he said. "Dang, y'all, this is really feeling like some kind of survival-horror video game."

"Yes, but the difference is that when you die in a video game it's just pictures." Lady Eisen said. "Let me carry Cyborg." she said to Raven, who nodded.

"YO!" Cyborg exclaimed when he plummeted a few feet before Eisen caught him with her powers.

"Sorry!"

"On the count of three we all attack at once. Give Malchior and I space for we do not intend to play fair."

"Meaning?" Red X asked.

"We are going to become dragons." Malchior answered. "One, two—"

Raven only just managed to surround them in a shield of spellfire before the enormous blast of red-orange flame got them, ripping through the wall of organic-looking tissue that they had been hiding behind. Even so Malchior and Eisen let out shouts of pain and clapped their hands on some part of their bodies. Some tongues of the fire had preceded the inferno, catching Eisen on the arm and Malchior on the cheek.

"Aw, _hell_!" Cyborg exclaimed.

"Yes indeed." Malchior said, staring at the blood on his fingers.

(O)

The waiting was the worst part, Nightwing reflected. This opinion was only reinforced after the Martian Manhunter reappeared from his sweep of the underground facility to report.

"There is no one down there." he said. "There are bodies, most of them with no blood and some very little. But nothing living. There is no sign of this Mother Mayhem or the Titans and…" he paused.

"What is it?" Wonder Woman prompted.

"Many of the bodies appeared to belong to the cultists themselves. There was one chamber, an auditorium of some sort, where a large number seemed to have simply died where they stood. All at once. There was no blood in their bodies. It was there that I found this." He produced what, at a glance, looked like a large crystal about the size of his forearm with something red on the inside. Upon closer inspection it looked like someone had decided to preserve a crushed mix of unidentifiable organs inside a case of all-too-clear quartz.

More than one observer turned and jogged a few feet so as to be violently sick without inconveniencing anyone nearby. Angel drew back and made some sort of sign with her hand that was probably meant to ward off evil spirits, saying some staccato mantra that possibly did likewise.

"Do you know what this is?" Batman asked Marlen Zanith.

The patriarch looked very grim. "Yes. I do. And I know where Mother Mayhem and the Titans are as well." He took the crystal from the Martian Manhunter and…explained.

"What can we do?" Starfire asked. "Can we crush it?"

"I am afraid the only way to destroy a Rotthurst is to do so from the inside out. The Mortix describes the preferred method in great detail – one that does not involve entering the Rotthurst physically. But even if we had The Mortix I do not know that it would work while there are living people trapped within." Zanith explained. "We will have to wait."

Waiting, more waiting. "There has to be something we can do!" Nightwing exclaimed.

"There is."

"What's that?"

"We can make sure that, should it be Mother Mayhem who emerges rather than the Titans, we are ready for her."

(O)

The next attack was a blast of Blood Magic spellfire so they scattered, deciding not to rely on Raven's shield to stop it.

"Not good! Not good! Not good!" Red X shouted. "She stole Slade's fire stuff!"

"I thought hellfire and Blood Magic were at war or something! How come she can use both?-!" Cyborg demanded.

"Power is power, I am afraid." Rorek returned.

"Not to the Deep Magics." Malchior rounded on Raven. "Raven you—"

"LOOK OUT!" Raven threw up a shield to stop the hellfire from hitting him. Then they had to split up fully to avoid the dozens of blasts, some spellfire, some hellfire, all coming from Mother Mayhem hovering just above the enormous heart.

"God, this all looks so weird with night-vision!" Red X exclaimed.

Two roars erupted in the enormous space and, when Raven looked 'round, both twins had become dragons. She wasn't so sure that this was such a good idea since it meant there was more of them for Mother Mayhem to aim at, but they could shift between forms so swiftly and seamlessly that she wasn't landing a hit with either power. She was mostly using the hellfire now, however. Her Blood Magic could not compete with Malchior's and Rorek had the other Nibelungen ring so it did very little, if any at all. The hellfire, however…Rorek might survive a few hits but Malchior would be all the more vulnerable for his Blood Magic, wouldn't he?

"Yo, Raven! We need help!"

Cyborg and Eisen were already at the core attempting to fend off the glang. Raven shook herself and joined them, allowing X to land on part of the heart so he could assist as well. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and began to bring her power out. All of it, or as much as she dared. She enveloped the core and all its surrounding tendrils and, all at once, destroyed the present glang. Immediately more began to appear to replace them. She had thought to try and destroy the tendrils of the core as well but this was surprisingly difficult. Her power wasn't working the way it should. It felt like trying to run through knee-high water when all her life she'd only ever had air to stop her.

"Alright, I'll hold them off, you guys get those tubes." she told them.

"On it!" Cyborg said, blasting away with his cannon.

"Hey, check it out! My teleport belt works here. Awesome!" Red X said. He threw an X bomb at a small tendril, which broke easily when it exploded.

"So happy for you." Lady Eisen said, slicing through tendril after tendril as though they were made of butter. Raven could feel just how sharp her sword was, though. She doubted even a laser could do _that_. And Eisen could probably keep it that sharp no matter how much she used the sword.

This was hard, this was very hard. And Malchior just got hit—no, don't think about that. It was only in his leg, he's fine, he's still fighting, in fact he was swearing. She concentrated, bringing out more and more power. But this wasn't about power, was it?

She could _feel_ the core. Wrapped in her power like this, it was almost as bad as when she'd tried to send out her senses in order to find the others. Not quite to that level, but getting there. She could barely stand it; it was so foul! She was going to be sick, she was going to be sick – no, she couldn't be sick. She took several deep breaths, wishing for clean air that she knew she wouldn't have here, and folded herself into the familiar lotus position. "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."

It was better, but it wasn't enough. She felt like she was hanging on by her fingertips and in only seconds her nails were going to break and she was going to fall. She tried to get a firmer grip but it was _so hard_! Her power just wasn't working right!

Then a new set of words rose in her mind. They were brilliant and shining and seemed to be burning into her, attempting to force their way out into the world through her voice. Desperate and unable to think of any good reason not to use them in the circumstances, Raven took a deep breath and let them out.

"Naykronah, Hetbriikah, Maartuz."

It was not enough to simply know or say the words. You had to have them as your own, branded in you like…like a stamp of permission. Permission to call the power woven in them.

It felt like something had just snapped. Not only did she have a firm grip now, but she almost felt like she could do tricks. Her power flooded the entire battlefield, making it her own. She could feel the core, the heart, and all those tethers, those veins. She started cutting them herself. One at a time, yes, but she was doing it. Then two at a time. Half the tethers were gone now. Another, and another, and—

"RAVEN!"

Her eyes shot open just in time to see the enormous blast of Blood Magic coming at her. It hit her, shooting right through the spellfire barrier she threw up as though it wasn't even there. And then she was plummeting. The foul power was everywhere, biting into her skin. The iron ring was gone, rusted away completely. The Nibelungen ring was burning so hot she wanted to take it off. She was falling, falling, she tried to levitate but her power wasn't working right. Everything _hurt_! And it hurt because of the ring. She had to take the ring off.

_Don't take it off!_

Suddenly something caught her by the wrist. It was cold and clammy, but the moment it touched her skin the biting subsided a little. She looked up. There was some sort of…wall here. And against it was her shadow out of which a blotchy blue-gray hand with no finger nails was gripping her wrist with the strength of a tree root wrapped around stone. Some feet above her was the upper edge of the wall. Below her…

It looked like she was in a large octagonal-shaped well and beneath her was a pool of blood. Something told her she'd have been in a lot of trouble if she'd fallen the rest of the way. Someone was shouting her name; a booming, layered voice full of fear and panic. It was so hard to think. She reached around and up, feeling the wall for a handhold. She had just enough time to realize the wall was smooth before another hand emerged from her shadow and clasped her palm. She couldn't say she liked the feel of its clammy skin, but at this point she wasn't about to get picky. Gripping the hand, she made to pull herself up. More hands began appearing along the wall, some with long arms that reached down and began dragging her upwards as she climbed. Helping hands…she almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

Looked like they didn't want her to die just yet. Or rather, they weren't going to _let_ her die. Not like this anyway. She wasn't sure just how comforting that was. One look back into the pool revealed that her shadow seemed to be stretching downwards as well as up. Blackness touched the blood and began to spread out like ink. She refocused her attention.

She found the ledge and rolling onto it, finding herself on a wide channel that separated one octagonal well from another. Not wells, then. More like honeycombs. Very, very large honeycombs filled with blood. She felt very weak. All she wanted to do was lay here and sleep. If the Nibelungen ring had protected her from the worst of that blast, then she just didn't want to know what would have happened if she hadn't had it on. That finger still stung a bit but the pain was dull. She was just so very _tired_. She tried to concentrate. She had to get up again. The others needed her! She took a deep breath, rolled onto her stomach, and forced herself onto her feet.

"Raven!" came the roar.

Suddenly there was a sharp piercing sensation in her left shoulder and a hand came around her throat, lifting her into the air. Her eyes shot open to find Mother Mayhem smiling at her. One glance told her that there was a small knife stuck deep into her shoulder. Pins and needles were shooting down that arm and she could feel it growing numb. Poison?

"Gotcha." Mother Mayhem said sweetly.

(O)

_She's fine, she's fine, she's fine, she's fine!_ Red X told himself repeatedly. _A powerhouse like Raven isn't going to get creamed __**that**__ easily. She's fine, she'll come back all red-eyed and vengeful, she's fine! The good guys never go down after a single hit like that. It's got to be some long dramatic takedown, right? Where she, like, sacrifices herself to defeat the bad guy. Well she didn't, so she can't be dead. It's, like, written into the universe or something. Right? And even then she'd come back in some dramatically improbable way. Right?_

But he had seen Mother Mayhem preparing that blast, watched the two dragons circling with the distinct air of worry despite the fact that they had some serious defenses against the red sticky stuff. And then, when Mother Mayhem suddenly threw it at Raven, he had _felt_ it when it hit her. He hadn't been anywhere near it but he felt it in his very bones, heard screaming in his head, an agony in his chest that caused him to black out two seconds too long. The Eisen chick had caught him before he fell to his death, though.

Mother Mayhem was nowhere in sight. Neither was Raven. And the glang were coming back.

"Uh oh."

"Cyborg! Do you have anything bigger than that cannon?" Eisen yelled.

"Blow that, man! We've gotta save Raven!" Cyborg exclaimed.

"You think we could get to her faster than Malchior? Listen, at this point we're a liability. Let's—"

"I am afraid you are correct, Ophelia." said a voice that, up until this point, Red X thought you needed audio editing software in order to achieve. It turned out to belong to the white dragon who hadn't seemed _nearly_ that big when he was fighting Mother Mayhem off in the distance.

Red X had just enough time to wonder how the hell it was possible for something that big to be airborne – magic on overtime, probably – before, with a flash of brilliant white light, he suddenly found himself laying down staring up at stars. He blinked a few times and three faces appeared over him, peering down with worried expressions. Two of them belonged to the cute girls he'd only met briefly. Terra and Jinx. The last belonged to Beast Boy.

"Are you guys alright?" someone asked.

Red X sat bolt upright. "Dude! What the hell, man?-!"

Lady Eisen let out a long string of words in a language Red X didn't recognize. She was probably swearing, though. Sometimes you can just tell.

"What's going on in there?", "What happened?", "Where's Raven and the other two?", "Are they still in there?", "What did you see?", "Are they fighting the Mother Mayhem?"

"One question at a time, y'all!" Cyborg protested.

"Did Rorek just kick us out of the boss battle?" Red X demanded, getting to his feet with Beast Boy's help.

"Yeah, he did." Lady Eisen growled. Then she sighed and looked around. Then she her jaw set, "So that's a Rotthurst, huh? Looks worse from the inside."

Red X followed her line of vision. Then he turned off the night-vision on his mask since it didn't look like he needed it. He blinked when he saw the large crystal sitting in the middle of some fancy glowing blue circle with all sorts of weird characters dancing around it. Looked like something you'd find in a video game. He recognized the crystal, though. Mother Mayhem kept it on her dresser. He thought it was just some sort of ugly decoration she put up to inform the world that herein is the dwelling of a seriously screwed-up witch, beware – or something. Like Blood Magic's version of the jarred oddities and mysteriously bubbling cauldron with green goop. It looked too dramatic to be real…at least, it _had_ up until this point. Eisen was right, though; it did look worse on the inside.

"So what's going on in there?"

Lady Eisen took a deep breath. "Right now? There's a very good chance that Raven's dead."

Silence, but only for just long enough that the shout of, "BULLSHIT!" rang out like a gunshot. It took a moment for Red X to realize it had come from him. He decided to repeat himself. "Bullshit, Raven can't die. Not like that! You heard what Slade said. She's like a magical Superman on steroids now, right?"

"But Mother Mayhem isn't playing fair!" Lady Eisen wailed. "The Rotthurst is her personal playground. No one else's magic or powers work as well as they should and at the same time _her_ power was exponentially increased because she is intrinsically connected to it, meaning all the power she's gathered in it is at her beck and call. Not even Malchior's power could beat hers in there, _and_ she's got Slade's hellfire. The only reason _we're_ still alive after so much as setting foot in there is because of these rings!" she exclaimed. "If Raven survived a hit like _that_ then she'll be practically powerless."

"So that's it? More waiting? There's _nothing_ we can do?" Nightwing demanded angrily.

Red X rubbed his arms as the chatter burst out around him. He wasn't sure if they were all arguing or if everyone was simply trying to be heard at once, asking questions and suggesting solutions that wouldn't work. He tuned it out. He was still aching from that blast. All over and down to the bone, despite the rings. He hadn't even been _near_ it and yet Raven had taken it full-force. He stared at the Rotthurst. No, he couldn't, he _wouldn't_ believe it. Raven was still alive. He shuddered.

_Please let her be alive, please let her be alive, don't let her die…_

Dully, he tried to figure out when he'd started to care so much. Would he feel this much dread if it'd happened to anyone else? Probably not.

(O)

Hellfire erupted from Mother Mayhem's palm and became a dome barrier that surrounded the two of them. There was a scream of rage somewhere on the other side of it and, struggling to breathe, Raven managed to catch sight of two dragons flying this way and that just outside the barrier. They were shouting words, attacking it with both magic and the Thu'um. Neither power was working, not even Rorek's ice.

"Trigon's power is mine now, little girl." Mother Mayhem giggled. "I don't need you anymore. I don't even need her. And you can be sure the next Church of Blood will not question me, oh no! The glang are good at finding children for the Church. Lonely children, little lost souls thirsty for love, thirsty for guidance and attention. I think I'll start by sending them to find those brats you call yours. What do you think?"

The rage rose up and she clung to it. She felt her nails growing, becoming sharp and pointed, thick and strong. She dug them deep into Mother Mayhem's arm, tearing at the sleeve until she could get at the bare skin. But the woman just chuckled; her grip was like stone and Raven lost all use of her left arm only seconds later.

"I'd love to keep you around, Darling. I mean, I did promise Sebastian but, well, it won't be the first promise I've had to break for the good of the Church."

Raven's right hand wrapped around Mother Mayhem's exposed wrist. The ring on her middle finger was suddenly cold and hot at the same time. There was pain of a sort, but not nearly as much pain as that which registered on Mother Mayhem's face.

The woman _screamed_. She dropped Raven and tried to yank her wrist free but Raven hung on. With her free hand, Mother Mayhem threw balls of hellfire at Raven but this did absolutely nothing. Then she tried to use Blood Magic but what blasts emerged from her hand were weak and feeble. They hurt, but Raven refused to let go even though the rest of her body felt limp and useless, her left arm might as well not even be there anymore and her mind was full of fog. But The Other was there in her right arm, refusing to let go.

_It is your power in her body. You can command it._

Not really knowing what she was doing, she willed the wall of hellfire to come down. To what little bit of amazement she was able to muster up, it did. The dragons descended, screaming their rage.

"No!" Mother Mayhem cried, still trying to free herself. She raised a hand towards Malchior and Raven could feel the hellfire preparing itself.

_NO! _she shouted inwardly. The hellfire dissipated before it had time to get more than a few yards from Mother Mayhem's hand. The woman's head whipped 'round. Raven grinned horribly and without humor. This was her power. She could command it. It obeyed her.

Drawing on strength and stamina that her body possessed only through adrenaline, Raven forced her legs under her and stood up, still holding on to Mother Mayhem's wrist. She took hold of that power, began drawing it into her body where it filled her veins like an electric current. It frightened her at the same time it exhilarated her. It was wild, angry, and in her head she saw a landscape of red full of ravens and a garden of spikes. Part of that power was still within Mother Mayhem. She took hold of it and _yanked_.

It did not come easy or gently, and Raven hadn't intended it to. Mother Mayhem let out a shriek of pain and redoubled her efforts to free herself from Raven's grip. But then another hand took the witch's second wrist, tearing away the sleeve in order to grip the skin. Mother Mayhem's stricken face went from Raven to Rorek, and then she saw Malchior approaching at a swift stalking pace. Her face went white. She struggled but she had no true physical strength, Raven had taken the hellfire away, and both rings together were completely neutralizing her Blood Magic.

Malchior's hand shot into her chest, nails first. Then Raven felt him unleash the full force of his own Blood Magic into her body. Mother Mayhem threw her head back and screamed.

It went on for a long time, each second felt like an hour but Raven refused to let go. Her body was running on adrenaline and hellfire now. She wasn't sure how long she could keep this up but she was determined to see it through. Mother Mayhem sank to her knees, her face and hair were turning blotchy and black in various places, as though they were being burned away. But…but…

But it wasn't enough. Malchior put everything into his attack, every last drop of the Blood Magic he had, and then he pulled back, his markings no longer glowing with that shimmering red power. They were dull and tan-colored once again. Staggering back, he fumbled swiftly to get a pair of iron rings around his fingers. He was probably just in time. A few seconds was all it took for blood to start leaking from his sweat glands and other orifices; eyes, ears, nose, there was even a trickle down the edge of his mouth.

Weak as a kitten in Raven and Rorek's grip, Mother Mayhem started to laugh. "Well, now what?" she asked. "It wasn't enough, was it? The power of a willing sacrifice?" She spat. "True power is taken by force. That is the way of the world. The strong take their power to prove they are worthy of it while the weak are the cattle they feed from."

"That is the Sin of Gods." Malchior growled.

Mother Mayhem smirked. "People can't be trusted to take care of themselves. They are stupid and weak; like chickens. Blaming others, blaming companies, blaming religions, blaming the government, blaming anything and anyone but themselves for their own inability to manage the lifestyles they think they ought to have. They spend their money on fancy things and wonder why they can't afford food. They eat junk because it tastes good and wonder why they have so many health problems. They drink and smoke and inject themselves with poison after poison and wonder why they are dying. They're cattle. They _want_ to be cattle. They want the higher powers to take over and provide all their needs and pass all these laws so that they're no longer responsible for their own stupidity. Look at how much power this so-called free country is giving their government. The cattle wander aimlessly through their petty, unimportant lives; their only purpose is to be ruled and told what to do. They know this. They _want_ it. In exchange for their blood I gave them homes and food and everything they could ever need or want. They don't even have to work. I take care of them, and I do a better job than they would if left to themselves because they are so very stupid and lazy and so quick to pass along the responsibility of life itself. Is that really a sin?"

"Yes." said Rorek coldly. "Because what you take is everything and what you give is next to nothing. People are not things. Cattle do not look at their tether and know they are a prisoner. Cattle do not experience the world through the eyes of self-awareness. You are as bad as the gods of old, if not worse."

She chuckled, "But in the end, I'm going to win. How long can you last? Oh you have me bound but you can do nothing about it. I have only to wait for my power to replenish and you? What more do you have? You cannot kill me now, can you?"

Raven had the hellfire now. She could feel it in her veins but…but it was in a body that was slowly losing the ability to stand. It was like having a bullet with the properties of a grenade lodged in a broken gun that couldn't even detonate it.

Then she saw her shadow. It was a long shadow, stretching from her to the edge of the blood pool she'd nearly fallen into. She craned her neck over. What little she could see of the liquid was completely black.

Malchior and Rorek were exchanging thoughts too fast for her to catch, though she was sure they were trying to think of what to do.

Raven took a deep breath. Speech came as a terrible effort and it burned her throat, but she forced the words out. "The shadows…she's…theirs…their price…pool…" she rasped. She nodded at her shadow, hoping they would understand. She had no more breath for words, though. She began to tug Mother Mayhem towards the black pool. Wordlessly Rorek complied with her demand.

"And what are you planning, dear? Going to toss me into the holder? It's not going to work. This is _my_ Rotthurst." Mother Mayhem told her, almost conversationally.

Raven ignored her and continued towards the pool. When she got to the edge and looked down, she saw a sea of hands rising up, waiting to collect. Rorek swore in Draconic and let go of Mother Mayhem, backing away from the edge. The woman herself didn't spot the danger in time to put up any sort of struggle. Raven already had her over the edge when the gasp left her lips.

She didn't even have time to scream.

Raven swayed and blacked out for a split second. When she opened her eyes she was staring down at the black pool at a very precarious angle, but a number of inhumanly long arms had come out of her shadow to catch her. Gently they pushed her back so she stumbled the other direction, this time finding herself in arms that were far more welcome, even if they were slick with blood.

Malchior picked her up bridal-style. "Come, Love. Rorek will destroy the Rotthurst."

There was some white light and then…

She must have passed out again because the next thing she knew there was a sharp pain in her left shoulder and Rorek was kneeling over her, removing Mother Mayhem's knife. There were voices, people, friends. There was excitement, confusion, relief, and joy. Someone (Red X?) was shouting, "I told you! I totally called it! Someone give me 20 bucks because I _told_ you she wouldn't die!"

"How bad is the poison?" Malchior's voice asked.

"Not as bad as it would have been if she hadn't been wearing that ring." Rorek reported. A cool hand stroked her face. "Raven?"

"Is it over?" she managed to whisper.

"Yes, My Love. It is." he answered.

"Awesome." she looked from him to Malchior. "You need a bath." she told him. Then she closed her eyes, listening to his laughter as it turned into white noise, merging with the excited chatter of all the other voices around her.

It was over…that realization and the relief that it brought settled over her like a soft eiderdown. In her mind's eye she watched as the terrible brooding storm that had been circling above began to dissipate. They had gotten what they came for.

(O)

One of the great things about being an anti-hero was that you didn't have to save the bad guy. Red X reflected on this as he watched flames rise up from the large hole that was the last place the Church of Blood would ever taint. One stomp from Terra's foot was all it took and somewhere during the underground collapse the house had caught fire for some odd reason. Maybe by the power of poetic justice. Having it all go up in flames seemed very appropriate to him.

Oh, maybe The Joker got out, but X doubted it. The Martian Manhunter claimed he hadn't found anyone alive down there but X also doubted he had been able to do a truly thorough sweep and hadn't simply searched all the obvious areas of occupation. A closed and locked vault wouldn't be top on his priority list. And all X had to do was simply _not tell anyone_ that The Joker was still down there and bam! Bye, bye Joker!

So, Mother Mayhem had killed off the rest of the cult for power. Just like she'd killed off the first half. Red X had to explain the second sentence and it came as a shock to the heroes. Apparently they thought all the dead people who had the Mark of Scath painted on their skin were innocent victims.

"Uh, no. You don't get that mark unless you're part of the cult." Red X explained. "All those people are, well, were, prominent members in the cult. They were either making trouble or Mother Mayhem just wanted some easily accessible juice."

"It occurs to me to wonder how you know all of this." Batman mused.

"Undercover agent, dude. I infiltrated the Church of Blood a few years ago." he invented.

"Oh, so I misheard when Slade mentioned something about you, Mother Mayhem, and custody rights?"

Damn it! "Awwww, come on man! Give me some credit, will ya? What, do you think I'm going to going to start up a new Church of Blood or something? Well let me set your mind at rest on that score: I couldn't, even if I wanted to. You have to go through a certain ritual to be a proper Brother Blood or Mother Mayhem and I have neither performed said ritual nor do I know how to do it. Everyone who does or did is now dead. Satisfied?"

"For now." Batman decided.

Hell, after all this, he was tempted to go back to a _real_ church just to further spite his mother. Somehow he didn't feel like he could go back to being a thief. There didn't really seem to be any point now. He'd only ever done it for the anonymous money since getting a real job was flat out of the question. Before Mother Mayhem had gone totally bats and started offing her own congregation, the Church of Blood had had a seriously scary intelligence network set up. Proof of this was in the fact that they'd still managed to find him despite the full-face mask and the myriad number of guises he wore when he was trying to look normal to get groceries and stuff. Now, though? Now anyone with sense would have cut off all ties to the Church of Blood, especially with Marlen Zanith and the Monks of Azarath preparing to break their own laws for the sake of making sure this cult went down and stayed down this time around.

Malchior was being hosed down by way of magic and a handy duck pond some distance from the mansion leaving Raven under the sole care and protection of Rorek. Red X sidled over as nonchalantly as he could. Her white cloak was stained with blood where Malchior had been carrying her, but it wasn't _her_ blood. That was the important thing to remember.

"She alright?" X asked.

Rorek raised an eyebrow at him. "For the fifth time, Serrah: She is fine. Her left arm has been severely damaged but she will recover."

"Cool, cool…any chance you can wake her up for a second?"

Suspicion suffused the white dragon's features. "Why?"

"I kinda wanted to say goodbye before I left." X admitted sheepishly. "I mean, she did save my bacon several times through all this. _And_ she's more or less the reason I don't have to run anymore. I'd feel kinda bad if I just left without—"

"Left? Why are you leaving?" Rorek asked, now surprised.

"I…well…I'm not really the hero type. And I was only with the Titans for protective custody and all that. I figured I'd…" he'd…what? He hadn't really thought about it. "I just…Well anyway…tell her I said goodbye, will you? And, um, tell her 'thanks' too."

"Tell her yourself. You're not going anywhere tonight." Nightwing said.

Red X whipped 'round to find the kid's glare pinning him to the spot.

"It's late, we're all dead tired, I've just about managed to convince the Justice League to keep their eyes _off_ you, Batman thinks Raven's going to become a person of interest to the Russian Mafia because some woman named 'Angel' disappeared right after Rorek told us she killed Mother Mayhem, Marlen Zanith wants to take Raven to the Azarathian medical wards to recover which is inevitably resulting in a Malchior hissy fit, and it would be _so nice_ if I didn't have to lie awake at night worrying about _you_ at the same time! Lady Eisen says you need to be checked out because that thing that hit Raven probably did more damage to you than her or Cyborg since they were covered in iron while all you had were the rings so you're coming back to the tower and you're getting medical attention or so help me I will hunt you down, tie you to a chair, and force you to watch 24 hours of bad internet flash cartoons non-stop!"

"…Dang, Wonder Boy…didn't know you cared."

"Just get in the T-car." Nightwing ground out.

(8)

A/N: Not quite finished yet! Still have a few chapters of aftermath to get through, about four. After that there's going to be a break between stories. I don't yet know how long it's going to be, especially since work gets so crazy at the end of the year that overtime is a given, but I will try to start 'Knots' up in January at the ABSOLUTE LATEST. And there's a chance it'll start out with an update schedule of only one chapter a week. But, since things usually calm down around February, that'll only be temporary. Thanks for sticking with me this long, and there's more to come! :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
There is no space in this timetable for bleeding to death, got it?

Cat: So are you going to start updating Squares again?

Uuuuuuuum…

Cat: (Taps paw impatiently)

(Grins nervously)


	53. Ouroboros

A/N: Beep!

(8)

_Hrist told Madam Crow where I am and now she has come to badger me as well. She is not so easy to send away, however. She has been asked to leave my benefactor's abode but she lingers in the surrounding lands and I cannot leave the fortress without her becoming my shadow. My friend seems more angered by her presence than I, however. He believes that her constant vigil is an indicator that they do not trust me on my own, that they feel I must always be watched lest my blood show through. Why else would they be so desperate that I return to the High Priest? Would he have such interest in a mere human? No. He would not. These words make too much sense._

_Is that what I am to the High Priest? An obligation? It must be. How could he truly have called me 'friend'?_

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 53 – Ouroboros**

Time had passed. Somehow she knew this even before she fully opened her eyes. But based on the effort it took to just lift her eyelids it _felt_ as though she'd taken a 1-hour nap after staying up for two days straight. She was tired. Her brain was tired. Everything from her head to her feet was tired. Like she was only now laying down after a long day of training and some high-energy mission all rolled into one. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and go back to sleep, but memories of the last time she was awake surfaced and presented questions that she wanted answers to. So she took a deep breath and concentrated on waking up. She opened her eyes fully and took stock of her surroundings.

Let's see, body that felt like it had been put through the ringer – check.  
Arm whose existence was only notable because, phantom limb syndrome notwithstanding, amputated limbs couldn't possibly hurt _this_ badly – check.  
Comfortable bed with just the right amount of back support – check.  
Sky-blue walls and ceiling of an Azarathian infirmary – check.  
One hot white-haired dragon boy sleeping with his head on her bedside desk – check.  
One hot black-haired dragon boy – no check. Where was Malchior?

Fortunately the desk was on her right side so it wasn't too much of a chore to reach over and nudge Rorek's head, though the actual nudge took a moment because the softness of his hair distracted her. She found herself playing with it a little, running her fingers through the snowy locks and rubbing some strands between her thumb and forefinger. She wondered what kind of shampoo he used. Same kind as Nightwing, probably, though with the added bonus of its natural health and beauty. It was as soft as feather down. Was Malchior's hair this soft? She was pretty sure it wasn't.

Her ministrations were enough to wake him. He sat up, his scarf slipping down off his face in the process. He smiled at her and took her hand in his. "How are you feeling?" he asked, kissing her palm.

"Tired. And my arm hurts. Actually everything hurts but my arm's the worst of it. What's happened?"

"Quite a bit. You've been asleep for about three days. I think all of Azarath tried to come visit on that first day but very few decided it was worth Malchior's snarl to insist." he told her.

"So…what's going on with the Church of Blood?" she pressed. Rorek sighed and explained.

They found out from Red X that the people who were harvested in that mansion in Gotham had all been _members_ of the Church of Blood. So were those in Batman's pictures. They drained their actual victims slowly because they believed the power was in the blood alone and they could get more that way; you could recover lost blood after all. Mother Mayhem destroyed her cult for power. Half of it in that mansion and then the other half she killed when she brought them into the Rotthurst. So that was what she meant when she was talking about how the new church wouldn't question her. Raven felt sick. Apparently even other Blood Magic practitioners were cattle to Mother Mayhem. No one and nothing was sacred. There was no limit, no line, no boundary where you said 'thus far and no further'. And that was what destroyed nations.

Now, though, the monks were focused on hunting down the rest of the cult. Most of the people they were finding in the network had nothing to do with magic of any sort and, further, had only been part of the Church for the power such illuminati-esque connections brought them. The mass murder in Gotham, however, freaked most of them out and Zanith believed they would not be a threat. After all, without a Mother Mayhem or Brother Blood there simply was no more cult.

There _were_ a few more Blood Magic practitioners, though, and Rorek was going to assist the monks in their hunt as soon as he was satisfied that Raven would be alright without him.

"Where's Malchior?" Raven asked, wondering why they couldn't just tag-team stalk—er, watch over her, like they usually did.

"He is…back at the T-tower." Rorek answered awkwardly. This seemed to be a question he didn't want her to ask. "By the way, your mother arrived with these two paintings that she gave to us, have you seen them? They—"

"Rorek, what's wrong with Malchior?" Raven cut in sharply. Rorek winced.

"Raven, before I tell you, you have to promise me to wait until you've recovered more. You are in no condition to move from this bed right now. Understand?"

"What happened to Malchior?"

"Promise me."

"Rorek!"

He sighed in defeat, suddenly looking very old and very weary. "He is…in a bad way. He has sequestered himself in the strong room that had been built for Red X and is refusing to allow anyone who…who contributed to enter. Miss Terra, Red X, and Cyborg are making sure he has food while I am here. He is asleep right now, but I'll let him know you woke. That will give him some comfort." he said.

"Contributed? Rorek, you're not making sense. What's happened to him?" she demanded.

"The Blood Magic." Rorek answered grimly. "Perhaps…perhaps it would not have been so bad had he not been tainted with the other kind, the stolen kind, but…call it 'withdrawal'. He is craving blood, he is craving the power. And when I say he is craving it, I mean that his very body believes it will die if he does not have more. It is not as bad as it would have been had he stolen that power, but it is very bad nonetheless."

"I want to see him." She tried to sit up. She got about three inches off the pillow before her body expressed a very emphatic lack of enthusiasm for this idea and she fell back.

"No." Rorek's response was gentle, but it had a firmness that brooked no arguments. "You need to rest. This may come as a surprise to you, My Love, but you _are_ human – if only a little bit – and it is going to take some time for you to recover. It may be that your power will return swiftly, but your body was heavily damaged; especially your arm. Until you are at least able to sit up by yourself you are staying here. That is the agreement. Once you can do that much then you will be released back to the tower _in a wheelchair_ and no arguing. Cyborg is even now building a hovering chair with as many comforts and interesting amenities as he can think of since you will be using it for a few weeks."

"_Weeks_?-!"

"Considering the fact that the average dragon would be bedridden the rest of their life after a strike of half as much power, I would count my blessings." Rorek stated. "You were hit with enough Blood Magic to take down a god, Raven. That you are recovering at all is amazing and very likely due solely to the fact that you were wearing one of the original Nibelungen rings."

She sighed. She was too tired to argue and, deep down, she knew he was right. "So…what have the others been up to?" she asked. Then memory threw up another card. "Is Damien alright?"

"He is still a bit disoriented but Patriarch Zanith is confident that they have cleansed him of anything that was left over even after Mother Mayhem's death." Rorek answered. "As for the rest of the Titans, most of them have returned to Jump City to keep the peace, as it were. However, a temporary door portal has been erected in the tower's basement leading to a nearby section of the Citadel so that we might come and go as we please while you are here." he explained. "I believe things are returning to normal, or as normal as they can be without the three of us for the time being. Still, Terra is quite powerful, Ophelia is staying with us, and I believe Kid Flash intends to take up permanent residence in the city, albeit he intends to live in one of the Wax Ribbon's spare apartments."

"Does that mean Jinx is—" Raven began but was cut off by the door to her hospital suite slamming open. Raven looked over, the slight elevation of her pillow allowing her to see that the doorway now revealed the very sorceress she'd just named.

"Speak of the devil and she shall appear!" Jinx declared dramatically. "Just kidding! Raven! Glad you're awake! You've got to read this, this is hilarious!" she said, waving her communicator in the air. It had a webpage of some sort open but Jinx didn't bother trying to get Raven to read it. "I was coming to show Rorek so he could pass it on to Malchior but you'll probably get a kick out of it too. So, like, you remember a week or two ago when Kitten tried to blackmail Malchior into going on a date with her? Well it appears as though she decided to post on the White and Black Knight's official fan site, saying that everyone should stop fangirling over Black Knight because he tried to kill her. Guess what happened."

Raven thought she could guess but decided to give Jinx the satisfaction of telling them. "What?" she asked.

"Black Knight's popularity is now officially neck-and-neck with White Knight." she answered. "Before it'd only been about half as high since he hasn't been around quite as long and people are still trying to figure him out."

"Let me get this straight: Malchior threatens and attempts to carry out said threat on a young woman's life and he is liked for this?" Rorek asked.

"Fangirls are crazy. Besides, Kitten's identity was somehow leaked. No idea how that happened." Jinx said with wide, innocent eyes. Said eyes then focused on a point somewhere to the right of Raven's head. She grinned widely. "Are you two holding hands?" she asked.

"No." Raven answered in face of the evidence.

Still grinning, Jinx turned her communicator on its side. Rorek, who seemed to be catching on to technology, got his scarf up swiftly. Raven sighed.

"Jinx, please don't film this."

"But you two look so cute together!"

"I'm in a hospital bed wearing a tacky outdated hospital gown. I _don't_ want this on the internet." Raven stated.

"Come on, Raven. It'll show people you're actually mortal like the rest of us."

"Bad idea." Raven said. "Then the fangirls will think this means they can kill me and, for their own sake, they shouldn't try."

"Why? 'Cause Malchior will kill them?"

"That too." Raven said. "Jinx, turn the camera off."

"Awwww, but I can't film anything in the tower!"

"What makes you think you're allowed to film in an infirmary?" Raven demanded. She sighed. She was too tired to deal with this right now. She both wanted and needed to go back to sleep, but she wasn't about to let Jinx get away with this. "I warned you." she said lazily. And then she…made a request.

Jinx let out a scream and dropped her communicator. Raven grinned and started chuckling. "What the crap was that?-! Raven! That was _not funny_!" she shouted.

"What did you do?" Rorek asked. Raven was still laughing, but she was swiftly running out of energy.

"Sort of…corrupted the file." she mumbled.

"Oh good gawd, it's still recording! Stop! Stop!" Jinx cried out, picking her communicator back up. She waved it at Raven and shouted something angrily but Raven was already too far gone to hear.

(O)

Cyborg was busy working on a difficult part of that chair he was building for Raven, Terra and Beast Boy were…_out_, and Rorek was in Azarath glued to Raven (big surprise). That meant Malchior was alone, and that didn't sit right with Red X. It was bothering him. A lot. In fact it surprised him how much it was bothering him. He tried to put it out of his mind, tried to tell himself that he was probably the last person Malchior wanted to be around right now. Red Eyes and Cyborg had similar tastes in video games while he and Terra apparently shared some similar past crime – though X had no idea what that could possibly be. Terra just didn't seem like the kind of girl who was capable of the kind of crimes a guy like Malchior could cook up when he had no reason not to. But maybe that was only his opinion.

X's knee was going up and down rapidly as he sat there watching some documentary about fungus that Starfire had asked them to turn to. Lady Eisen had left already but Nightwing, as per the standard contract of boyfriend-ship, was stuck where he was. X just had nothing else to do.

No, actually he did. And his conscience – which was getting more and more annoying lately – was just flat out _not_ leaving him alone about it.

Finally, swearing inwardly, he got up, dug around the Titans' DVD collection for some Action/Adventure stuff that had plenty of guns and explosions and _no magic_, and left the living room. Nightwing, who probably assumed he was going to watch the movies in his own room, didn't even glance his way.

Red X tapped his foot as the elevator took him down to the lowest level of the Tower and then he jogged down a few flights of stairs before coming to a door that had once been his for all of a few days. He knocked on the door. "Yo! Red Eyes! I have some movies! You like big fiery explosions, desperate situations, and most people winding up dead, right? Ever seen Pitch Black? It's pretty good." he called.

No response.

He knocked again. "Come on, man! It's boring as crap up there! All the interesting people are occupied and my hilarious movie commentary needs an audience. Hello? Yo, Red Eyes! Are you alive in there?" He decided to try the door. To his surprise it opened right up. "Red Eyes? Are you—" He stopped abruptly and stared. "_Damn_." he swore, dropping the DVD cases.

He had just enough presence of mind to close the door and lock it behind him before rushing over to the heap on the floor. He let out a long stream of swearwords as he knelt down next to Malchior and yanked off a glove so he could feel for a pulse, just in case. He wasn't too surprised when he felt it, but he was relieved all the same.

"Dang, man, what happened? You get into an argument with yourself or something?" Red X asked. Malchior opened a crusty eye and growled at him. Apparently he wasn't in the mood for humor. X swore again. "Alright, alright, come on. We can at least get you washed off, right? Up we go." He pulled one of Malchior's arms over his shoulders and levered the dragon up onto his feet. The dragon didn't protest or struggle. Instead he managed to get his feet under him and feebly walked a little while leaning heavily on Red X for support.

X managed to get him into the tub. Malchior wasn't wearing any more than his pants and those were in tatters so they were now more like shorts. Clinging to a brace bar for support, Malchior stood there as Red X turned on the faucet and waited for the water to warm up. When he was satisfied with the temperature he turned on the shower head, pulling the curtains across so the water wouldn't get all over the bathroom floor. Malchior pulled himself under the spray. Crusted and caked blood, much of it still fresh and glossy, started running freely down his white skin and draining out of the shower. "Hotter." he rasped. Red X obliged and adjusted the temperature a bit. "Hotter." Malchior insisted. Shrugging, X turned the temperature up until the water was practically scolding. Only then did Malchior seem satisfied. He sighed. "Technology is a wonderful thing. Hot springs were such a bugger to find in my millennia." he said, his voice sounding better.

"You look like hell, man. Wanna tell me what happened?" X asked.

Another sigh. "It is called the Ouroboros. It is the one and only way to wean oneself off of Blood Magic. Unfortunately it comes with its own dangers."

"Ouroboros, right, explains everything, that does. Hey, why don't we play a game? Let's pretend I don't really know all that much about magic and everything you just said went right over my head, shall we?"

This time Malchior chuckled. "The phrase 'Feast of the Serpent' has two meanings in the magics of my time. The first is the meaning prescribed to it by Blood Magic practitioners. The serpent, a traditional symbol of evil, feeds upon the weak to gain strength. The second meaning is the Ouroboros, the serpent swallowing its own tail, feasting upon itself, you might say. In human lore the Ouroboros is a symbol of cycles and eternity and other such things, but for dragons it means something very different. The serpent, the symbol of evil, bites its own tail so that it does not harm anyone else. Evil choosing not to be evil; choosing to destroy itself rather than harming an innocent.

"Blood Magic is an addiction like no other." he went on. "One taste is all it takes, and you will crave it down to your very bone. Too much and your body will believe that it is going to die without it. Too much and this invariably becomes the case. But there is a cure, one cure, and that is to take your own blood."

"But…Blood Magic doesn't work like that." Red X said.

"Exactly. No power is gained, no Blood Magic is used, but your body _thinks_ it is getting the blood it demands even though it isn't; it doesn't even soak in properly."

"Wait, so the cure for Blood Magic is _cutting_?" Red X demanded.

"Like I said, it comes with its own dangers. It can become addictive in its own right."

"Uh, _how_?"

"Because it releases endorphins." Malchior turned and gave X a wry smirk through his damp locks. "At least, that's what science claims."

"Riiiiight, creepy. Well, here's a washrag and some soap. I'm going to clean up the living room and make some popcorn."

"Very well, then. I shall stand here and bleed to death, shall I?"

"Uh, no man. You're going to get cleaned up and watch Pitch Black with me, and we are going to commentate while I record our hilarious banter with this communicator. Afterwards we shall post the video up on YouTube and get thousands of subscribers. There is no space in this timetable for bleeding to death, got it?"

Malchior chuckled. "Very well then. Only one question."

"What's that?"

"When did you become a Teen Titan?"

"Uh, I didn't. I just got the communicator because…because…" Pause. "HOLY FREAKING CRAP, HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?-!"

(O)

When Raven opened her eyes a second time she felt much better. Rorek wasn't there but Arella was. She tried not to feel too disappointed. Rorek was probably out hunting Blood Magic-users and it was nice to see her mother. After all, not long ago she thought she'd never see Arella again so it was a plus.

Raven sat up without thinking and managed a good upright position for about five seconds before her body said 'that's enough', and she gently laid herself back down. Arella looked up from the easel she'd brought into the suite with her and smiled. "Feeling better?"

Actually no, she wasn't. She felt stronger and better rested, but a few moments of consciousness revealed to her that the pain was worse and it was practically everywhere, especially in her immobile left arm. Raven found herself wincing a little. She wondered if Azarath has discovered the wonders of non-magical painkillers yet. If they had it was probably little more than ibuprofen and the amount of ibuprofen it would take to dull _this_ would probably be lethal. Besides that, Raven had never actually gotten any results from the weak drugs. Only opiates seemed to work on her and she didn't like the effect they had on her mind. Actually opiates worked on everyone, even Starfire. Even _Malchior_! That was a bit worrying. It kind of made you wonder what in the world they were doing to normal humans.

Raven sighed. Of course, she didn't really need drugs, did she? She was a bit leery about doing it the other way, though. That was always risky. Pain was there for a reason after all. But there was a lot of pain and it was steadily increasing as her awareness grew. So she closed her eyes and…adjusted things.

It wasn't that she took the pain away, exactly. No, that wouldn't really work. The pain would always come back one way or another and, in any case, where could she take it _to_? What she did was simply put it off to the side. She was aware of it, but it did not touch her. It was like having a bucket of water standing next to you. You were aware of the water being there but you weren't actually wet. The pain was still there and she knew it was, but she felt it as though it were the memory of pain rather than the actual pain itself. She relaxed and opened her eyes. There, much better. She'd have to watch it, though. There were records of people who had died doing this simply because they didn't keep track of it and _forgot_ just how sick or damaged they were.

"I've been better." she finally told Arella.

"Not a huge help, but I suppose you're not obligated to give your mother details." Arella mused, putting her brushes and little paint box to the side. She then turned her easel about so Raven could see what she was working on. "What do you think?"

Not for the first time did Arella's skill amaze Raven. It was unlikely that she had gotten much more than a glimpse of one or the other of the twins with their scarves off, and yet there they were with what appeared to be every scar in place with an accuracy that matched Raven's own memory – which was pretty good considering she'd been seeing those markings quite often lately.

Arella had them standing side-by-side and angled slightly away from one another. They looked exactly the same in every respect save for the coloring and the look in their eyes. Somehow, Raven simply couldn't figure out how, she had managed to give Rorek an expression of calm serenity, as though he could simply stand and watch for as long as necessary. Malchior, however, had the look of someone ready to leap right out of the portrait and make inventive use of the first sharp object he came across.

Another interesting part of this portrait was the way she'd done their hair. Arella was good at doing hair. It was probably her favorite part of a portrait. In this she had their hair positioned in such a way that it looked like the strands were connected at the ends with white turning slowly into black and vice-versa. The background was a basic cast of gray texture with a hint of blue behind Rorek and a hint of red behind Malchior. It wasn't entirely finished; it looked like she still needed to touch up on some bits of armor and Malchior's eyes. Even so, it was already breathtaking. And it wasn't as though the twins made bad material, either.

"Is that for me?" Raven asked, pretty sure it was.

"You? Why would it be for you? No this is mine. My future sons-in-law."

Raven's face went very red. "Mother!" she exclaimed, glad no one else was in the room.

"I'm just kidding. Yes it's for you. I can be happy with all the pictures I found on your communicator."

Eep! "You…went through my pictures?" Raven groaned.

"Rorek tried to very politely stop me if it makes you feel any better. He seemed quite surprised, and rather pleased, when he found out that the majority of your album featured him and Malchior." Arella giggled, probably because of the look on Raven's face.

Daanik…she'd been hoping no one would find out about all those pictures. No Titan ever snooped through another Titan's communicator – especially not with Raven getting so good at mixing magic and technology – so she'd never felt it necessary to put a password on hers. They weren't even_ all_ the pictures she'd taken, either. They were just the ones she liked to look at. And there happened to be a lot of them. A lot more of _them_ than there was of anyone else, point of fact. And, up until now, she was pretty sure no one knew just how often she was taking pictures while appearing to be idly toying with her communicator. She'd been hoping to keep it that way, though she wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was because she didn't want Jinx to complain about Raven's lack of photo restrictions. Maybe she was a bit embarrassed and didn't want to be teased. Or maybe she didn't want Malchior to start posing every time he spotted her innocently messing with her communicator (because that was definitely something he'd do). Whatever the reason, it looked like the jig was up now.

"I think my favorite is the one where they fell asleep leaning against one another. It looked so sweet, especially when compared to all the ones of them having some sort of scuffle or glaring contest. Do they fight a lot?"

"Not nearly as much anymore, but back in the beginning it seemed like they couldn't go a single day without some sort of contest or bout of fist-fighting. The term 'fighting with myself' has taken on a whole new meaning for us."

"Did they fight over you?"

Apparently so, though they'd had the decency not to make it obvious. She didn't say that out loud, though. Instead she answered, "They fought over anything. Sometimes I don't think they even bothered to find a reason first." She'd recorded a few of their arguments and scuffles, but those video files were tucked away on her computer and were not currently on her communicator (thank Maartuz).

Arella chuckled and turned her easel back around so she could continue working on it and still face her daughter. "Well, they seem quite comfortable with one another now. Or, at least, they do whenever I'm around. I hope you don't mind, but we've been spending some time together. Well, Rorek and I have. It seems Malchior's battle fatigue caught up with him a day later and he insisted on being treated at the Tower by Cyborg. I think the healers might have spooked him."

"Does Healer Teresa still have the life-size animated skeleton puppet that talks?"

"I'm afraid so."

"That would do it." Oh not the skeleton itself, of course. Skeletons wouldn't worry Malchior. Especially not the magically animated puppets with a magically animated voice box controlled by the magic-user. What would worry him was the fact that one of the healers felt it necessary to walk around the infirmary with one following along behind her making suggestions that she, herself, was giving it to make. And having conversations with it. And admonishing it for making rude jokes. And dressing it in overalls. And calling it 'Bill Door'.

There was only so much one could take before they decided house calls were worth the expense.

That wasn't why Malchior was staying at the Tower, though. Raven knew that, but Arella didn't need to.

"Where's Rorek right now?" Raven asked.

"Getting some sleep. I insisted. I told him I would go and fetch him when you woke up again but since that was only a few hours ago I think I'll leave it for now. Patriarch Zanith has been running him ragged, though I don't know what for. I know he's missing you a lot right now. It seems you were some kind of buffer between himself and the world and now he's having to deal with the world without you. His temper has been showing as a result. I thought he was going to cut off Madam Crux's head when she came by! Thank goodness the Patriarch was here to tell her off or he might have done it." Arella chattered.

"Madam Crux? What did she want?" Raven demanded.

"Raven," Arella began warningly, "You let me deal with Madam Crux." she instructed. "She is not the overpowered leader of a cult, she is not an inter-dimensional demon, she is not even a particularly powerful sorceress. She is a petty pompous windbag that, regardless of her restricted world views and opinion that said world is going to be as she wants it to be despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, does not deserve to run headlong into you. Eventually she is going to realize that her actions and attitude are driving away her own family and that revelation will be hard enough to deal with without it being slapped in her face. It will be punishment enough all on its own. Please, Raven?"

Raven deflated. "Alright." she sighed in defeat.

Arella smiled. "Incidentally, did you know that dragons don't have marriage ceremonies? Apparently their bonding rite is a private affair. They believe the only necessary witnesses to the marriage is this entity they call Iiam Bormah, who sees and knows everything, and the god they call 'Maartuz', who is invoked by a particular litany. I found that very interesting. I asked Rorek if they objected to ceremonies and he said—"

"MOTHER!-!-!"

Raven was saved from her mother's bout of laughter when a healer came into the room wearing a set of pale blue scrubs with a flower pattern on them. Well that was new. Last Raven remembered, the healers all wore white robes with red crosses on the back and a whole lot of pockets on the front. Scrubs must be suddenly in. She smiled when she saw Raven, who had sat up in her indignation and found herself flopping back down onto her pillows. "Ah, good, you're awake again. How do you feel?"

Raven got control of herself and, fortunately, so did Arella.

Knowing that healers, like doctors, hated vague answers like 'fine' or 'been better', Raven took a moment to consider the present wad of pain she was keeping carefully off to the side. "Like my arm was shoved into a portable meat grinder while the rest of me got caught up in a tornado that had picked up a knife-making factory on its way and my only protection was a single layer of plastic shipping wrap. Oh, and I think I've got a bad headache on top of all that but it's a bit hard to tell because my arm is demanding most of the attention." she explained.

The healer frowned. "Is the pain that bad? You don't seem to be—oh, I forgot, you've had monk training. Well at least you admit the pain is there. That's a blessing. I can give you something to dull it if you think you'll need it."

"It won't be worth it. Only opiates work on me. I've tried just about everything else with no results." Raven said.

"Well, a magic-user in Germany found an alchemical combination of Mandragora root and mint leaves that has had marvelous results on every patient who's tried it so far. Want to give it a go?"

Raven thought about it and decided that, yeah, she'd give it a try. She preferred not to take the risks involved in ignoring her pain like this and healer looked eager to further the progress of magical development. If she could find a non-opiate that'd take away her pain then that would be all the better for her, right?

Too late she remembered that Mandragora root was a hallucinogen.

(O)

The Order had tracked down four Blood Magic practitioners connected to the Church of Blood. Rorek, however, found two more. The Order insisted that there were no others. They even took into account the masking drug that Red X told them about. Rorek had insisted and acted on the belief that there were more. He had been right, the Order had been wrong. This was because Rorek was not hunting alone or even by his own power.

From the moment he had begun this search he felt their presence alongside him. They continued to gather and press in around him as he had neared his first target and, when he got there, he found the practitioner in a state of heightened paranoia and fear – which befitted someone who was being stalked by their own shadow.

Free will meant that people were free to sink into the very bowels of their sins and commit terrible acts against those others whose worst crime was, perhaps, the occasional scuffle with their neighbor over an overgrowing hedgerow. Free will meant that you were free to learn and practice this terrible magic. But you were also free to face the consequences of it as well.

Malchior had told Rorek of the whole problem with pollution in this modern day and something called 'global warming'. They'd both had a good chuckle about that. The very idea that mortal beings could truly do such damage to the world's ecosystems and atmosphere so indirectly, believing that they had never done so before in one form or another, was so arrogant and preposterous that Rorek had to sit back and simply marvel at it. The world as a body could deal with pollution. There was no such thing as this 'global warming', though. Such changes to the atmosphere's aperture was completely normal. They knew this because it'd been about that size a thousand years ago. The world could take care of itself. That was rather the problem because some of the ways it did so was with violent acts of nature. Storms, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and so on.

As far as he understood or cared to understand, the shadows were the incorporeal equivalent of such storms.

One by one he hunted, found, and caught the remaining practitioners. Walking with the shadows, aided and guided by them but never touching and never being touched because he was not the Dark Keeper, not personally. But it seemed he had become her adjutant. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it was simply that the shadows were accompanying him as two travelers might who were on the same road aiming for the same destination. Perhaps his connection to Raven only meant that they knew him as an ally of sorts. What did it mean to be the Dark Keeper? What was the purpose of there being a Dark Keeper in the first place? Were there duties that a mortal being was necessary for? There were speculations about this but no one knew for sure, not even him. It was not something that Hrist spoke of willingly and he doubted Raven would tell him more.

Finally he came upon the last practitioner. In all actuality the man ought to be half-crazed with paranoia but he still managed to cast a veil of normalcy over the world, thinking he was dealing with Rorek and only Rorek even though, by now, he ought to know better.

"Wait! I—I have information!"

"I do not need it."

"Money, then! I can give you—"

"No."

"I'll give you whatever you want! Just tell me what you want!"

"The calm of the storm that rises from the taint of you and all your kind."

"Wh-what? No! Wait! I—"

The scream went on for quite some time. Rorek did not even touch the man. And when it was done he felt the shadows dissipating, a storm blowing over.

You could not hide from the light, and where the light did not shine there were the shadows. Shadows were of the light. But the shadows were in darkness as well and the guilty have more to fear from the dark than do the innocent. In fact, the innocent had nothing to fear from _them_. But no sentient being of corporeal existence is truly innocent. Rorek certainly wasn't. And that was why he relaxed with relief when the shadows left him.

That was it. It was over. All over.

…No, it wasn't. The gods would never stop trying, would they? But they had been thwarted this time. Blood Magic had been eradicated. The world would heal, strengthen, and (he prayed) the seal would become too strong for them to reach Raven any longer. Finally they might find peace in this new life.

Well, as much peace as could be found by those who made it their business to keep it. And now it was time to return to his Lady.

(8)

A/N: You guys do realize that when I say 'the next story' I'm actually talking about the sequel, right? Okay good, just wanted to get that cleared up. ^_^

I'm a bit rushed today so I'm afraid I don't have time to pick out a 'Coming up in the next chapter:' phrase. Sorry!


	54. Need

A/N: Rorek lays down the law. XD

(8)

_The scroll's enchantment is difficult to decipher, but with my Gift of Tongues I am able to read it in the way no other sorcerer could. The ancient words used for this spell are very strange and their meaning is too complex to explain with any of the common languages I know. To place what is here to be there, to say you are this, to make your flesh a number, to put to a word the image, sound, smell, taste, and feel of a single moment. This is one word. I can explain it no other way._

_I have developed a version of the spell that I believe I can use but I do not know that it will work the same way. It feels as though a blank scroll will not work. There must be words already available._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 54 – Need**

"That was, hands down, the WEIRDEST dream I have ever had! Including the one where Trigon was wearing a skirt of fish scales and a thorny traffic cone on his head!" Raven exclaimed. "Why did I do that? You would think I'd know by now not to let the healers experiment on me! Maartuz, why is it that Advil does nothing but I take any distinct amount of a hallucinogen and I'm watching the little square bubbles trying to float to the window to check the weather?-!"

Arella was laughing. Rorek was trying not to but it would take more than a scarf and steady gaze for him to fool _her_ senses. "But you are not in pain, are you?" he forwarded.

She wasn't, actually. Not much, anyway. Oh there was a small pocket there at the moment but it wasn't nearly as much as it had been. She was also sure most of that pain was from the fact that she was sitting upright. Her body really wanted her to lay back down but she wanted to be back in the Tower as soon as possible so she was determined to prove that she could sit up by herself. So the painkiller lasted longer than the hallucinations. That was good. But she wasn't about to risk that again. At least she didn't remember any opiate-induced dreams. She was trying to forget these but she had the feeling they were going to stick in her memory. It hadn't been a _bad_ dream/hallucination, just very, very _weird_.

"Rorek, will you take off your scarf a moment again? I want to make sure I have your markings right." Arella said after Raven's grudging grunt of affirmation.

"As you wish." Rorek said, pulling his scarf down and facing Arella so she could get a good look. This meant that his back was now to Raven, who couldn't help but note that, as he was standing right next to her bed and, given the height of the bed, his back_side_ was within reach. The temptation was overwhelming. Fortunately (or unfortunately for the sake of comedic reactions), she was all but physically incapable of actually _doing_ anything. Too many years of self-effacing conditioning kept her hand where it was.

Satisfied, Arella nodded and finished putting away her supplies. "I am going to send this out to be framed. I'll be back shortly." she told them brusquely. She put a cover over the painting and bound it up before turning to fold up the metal easel.

"Should the painting not be left to dry?" Rorek asked worriedly.

"Azarathian paint dries quite swiftly when it is in a thin layer. I'm not sure how it is made but it is very convenient." she answered. She packed everything up into a sub-space gem on her belt and slipped out of the suite.

"Lie down, My Love. You've made your point." Rorek told her gently once Arella was gone. "I will tell Cyborg to bring the chair as soon as it is finished. I think he has a few more things he wishes to add to it but it should be ready shortly."

Raven allowed her grateful body to rest back on the pillows. She could still feel the lingering fatigue, like her body would be quite happy to do no more than sleep for the rest of the week if only she'd let it. "Are you sure I'm going to be stuck in a chair for several weeks?" she asked.

"You are recovering rapidly, My Love. That is the only reason I do not think it will be for a few months." He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

She sighed. Oh well, it could be worse. She could be dead.

Deciding she wanted a bit more than a kiss on the forehead, Raven reached up with her right hand as Rorek drew back and grabbed the scarf hanging down around his neck, tugging. It was all the incentive he needed. He gave her a smile that made her heart thump loudly in her chest and caught her lips up with his. One hand braced against her headboard, his other came around to stroke her cheek while she draped her right arm around his neck. She closed her eyes and felt her body relax as his lips gently massaged hers. She responded as best she could, matching his movements or trying to flow with them. There was a bit of awkward confusion as she tried to figure out which lip was going where but at least Rorek knew what he was doing. He broke away only to come back again, repeating the process a few times before settling into a position where his head was slightly tilted for better purchase. The lingering kiss was sweet and loving right up until she felt a little pressure as something wet began trailing the slight gap between her lips, seeking entry. Then it took on a new flavor, literally. She opened her lips to him and was rewarded with the taste of winter as his tongue filled her mouth. She sucked on it a little, rolling her own tongue around it in an effort to reciprocate. She felt him shiver and got something between a groan and a growl in response.

They broke apart for a moment to get their breath back, though not that far apart. There was barely an inch of room between them and she could feel his cool breath on her lips.

"Is Malchior awake?" she murmured.

Rorek smiled slightly. "Yes. And very…aware." he added delicately. "He is a bit irate. He says that it is not fair I claimed the last kiss before all of this began and now I have you all to myself afterwards."

"Tell him I'll try to make it up to him." she said as their lips came back together.

"What is the meaning of this?-!" a voice cracked out like a whip of lightening. It was so sharp that it made them jump and Rorek jerked upright, nearly pulling Raven up with him since her arm had still been around his neck.

"Madam Crux, _please_! I am going to have to insist that you leave if you do not keep your voice down."

"Young man, how _dare_ you! Healer, I insist that you throw him out at once!"

"Madam, that's Rorek. I can't do that."

Raven closed her eyes. _Really? I mean, __**really**__? The universe is honestly going to go through with this? Didn't Arella tell me time and time again to leave Madam Crux to her? Well if she's not back in the next two seconds I won't be able to comply with that wish._ When she opened them again she saw Rorek had his scarf back in place and his eyes looked extremely annoyed.

"What?-! But you saw him! He is taking advantage of poor Raven's disability! Out! Out!"

Madam Crux was a big woman but she was very handsome as well. She did not have more than a touch of Asian in her looks, but it was enough for her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. That was where it stopped, though, because all the other features were, well, American. Which meant that they were a mix of so many other things you couldn't pick one shape out from another without forensic analysis. America was a melting pot. The only minorities you found these days were people who complained about being a minority and therefore kept reminding the next generations that such a thing as a minority existed.

She also wore big expensive (and expansive) dresses. Not with the huge skirts and bustle or anything, but there _was_ quite a lot of fabric there and quite a few colors as well.

"I also notice that Magister Roth is not complaining." the healer said patiently.

_**Magister**__ Roth? When did I become a Magister?_ Raven wondered, taken aback by this.

Rorek turned and looked directly at Raven so his spill words were loud and clear. _'If that woman is not out of here in the next ten seconds I am going to do something I will very much regret.'_

"You and me both." Raven muttered as Madam Crux turned to argue with the healer. "Maybe if we ignore her she'll go away." she whispered.

Rorek's head dipped and his shoulders shook with laughter that he was doing his best to keep internal. He took her hand in his and laced his fingers through hers.

"He is _who_?" came Madam Crux's sharp demand. Both Raven and Rorek winced.

'_I am told I have Red X to thank for the revelation of my identity.'_ Rorek's spill words came out rather grumpy.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"I don't care if he's Merlin himself! Raven is to be my daughter-in-law and this behavior can hardly be tolerated!"

Raven gripped Rorek's hand and pulled him back before he could turn around and make a popsicle out of Madam Crux. Then she sat up so she could get a look at the woman from around Rorek. Madam Crux caught her eye, opened her mouth, and stopped abruptly.

"**Get. Out."** snarled The Other.

Suddenly realizing just how suicidal it was to repeatedly ignore reports of the personal wishes of an extremely powerful half-demon daughter of Trigon, Madam Crux was gone. In fact, it was almost comical how swiftly she left. Apparently, despite how self-absorbed and pompous the woman was, her instinct for self-preservation was still a strong enough force to send her bolting.

The healer goggled, mouth and eyes both wide open. Raven closed her four glowing red eyes and then opened her two normal ones. "I probably shouldn't have done that." she sighed.

The healer shrugged, a grin spreading across her face. "Hey, whatever works." And then she slapped a hand over her face in an attempt to stifle the laughter. She tried to tell them to call if they needed her but couldn't get the words out and simply left, shaking her head.

"So…was that The Other or was that simply you pretending to be The Other?" Rorek asked her.

"I _am_ The Other, or The Other is part of me. I'm not sure how to explain it. I think what happened there was simply that the two of us were in close accord and I was able to sort of dip into her without actually _becoming_ her. Like having two surfaces so close together that you can reach out and touch the other surface without actually leaving your own." she answered. "Either that or I'm just getting really good at controlling it. We aren't two people. We aren't even two people with joined souls. We are one person, one soul. She is simply another part of me, a part that I keep safely stored away until I need her. It isn't like having two bowls full of marbles, it's one bowl of marbles with a little box sitting next to it containing a specific color of marble. Does that make sense?"

"In a way, yes. So you can bring her out when you wish and return her when she is no longer necessary?" he asked curiously.

"Something like that." she answered.

(O)

Cyborg had had help from Azarathian technicians in the making of Raven's chair. He'd needed it because some of the features he'd wanted to give it did not yet exist as technology and so magic was required. First and foremost was the levitation ability. Oh it had wheels that could be brought out and put to use, but the T-tower had way too many steps and stairs and Cyborg, bless him, knew how much Raven would hate having to rely on someone else to get her up and down them. So instead of attaching jet packs to the bottom (because setting the tower on fire was generally frowned upon) the Azarathian technicians had gotten a large number of stones made with a specific enchantment which tied in nicely to the control panel on the right arm of the chair.

This was only the most practical and necessary of the additions. Others included the ability to turn the wheelchair into an armchair big enough for two people (at least, in Raven's opinion. A big guy like Cyborg would find it a perfect size) that could lean so far back it practically turned into a bed, a small snacks cabinet, a mini fridge with room for half a dozen soda cans or three bottles, a massage feature to prevent her limbs from falling asleep, a built-in computer that could be directly connected to her computer in the T-Tower by way of some virtual machine software, and a number of other small additions included to ensure that she wouldn't need to leave her chair for any reason.

Raven had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking if it had a built-in toilet and shower. She was half convinced that, if she did, Cyborg would request another day to get those features included. Besides, if she had to she could clean and, ahem, _clear_ herself with magic. She just never liked to because it seemed like such a stupid thing to waste her magic on when she was perfectly capable of getting up and going to the bathroom for these necessities.

A special cast and sling were made for her still completely immobile arm. She was dressed in a comfortable black T-shirt and sweatpants on the basis that her usual outfit would be a bit too constraining and difficult to work with in the ablutions department. Her cast and sling were also black, a point that Beast Boy noticed and complained about.

"What's the point of signing your cast when the marker won't show up?-!" he demanded, waving the aforesaid marker accusingly at Raven. She just shrugged. That was when she noticed she still had the use of her left shoulder.

"Rorek, why is it that the poison has affected my arm so badly but I can still use my shoulder?" she asked. Come to that, you'd think the poison would have gotten into her torso as well, maybe even her head.

"Because your left arm had the least protection considering the iron ring rusted off and the Nibelungen ring was on your right hand." he answered. "I am quite sure Mother Mayhem believed her poison would get into your heart and kill you. Which it likely would have done otherwise. As it is, I think it only severely affected everything that was an inch or two below your shoulder."

And that was also when Raven realized she was now wearing both rings again. She decided not to ask why she needed them. She didn't need them, not anymore. But she had grown a bit attached and might be just a bit reluctant to let them go should the twins ask for them back.

"Lucky break for you, huh?" Jinx asked, grinning. She had her communicator out again and was holding it on its side. "By the way, would you stop that? Seriously, Raven. It's creepy."

"I'll stop when you stop trying to get pictures of me in a wheelchair." Raven stated.

"What is she do—WHOA!" Beast Boy exclaimed, jerking away from whatever image was appearing on Jinx's camera. Raven wasn't too sure what was actually showing up, but she guessed there was a lot of distortion, some images that typically required a lot of video editing software and some CGI animation, and perhaps only vague flickers of her appearance as something other than a girl sitting in a wheelchair.

"Question: Why are you making Rorek look like one of those glang?" Jinx asked.

"Because I figured that would creep you out the most." Raven lied. But, 'I'm not actually doing that, it's these Shadows, see? And they're probably making Rorek look like one of the glang they ate.' was probably not a good idea. "Just turn it off."

"Oh fine." Jinx sighed.

Rorek was pushing her wheelchair for her and, at the moment, it pretty much looked like a wheelchair. A sleek black one that was a bit thicker in the frame than you might expect, but it was a wheelchair nonetheless. She decided to go ahead and let him. She really didn't feel much like figuring out the movement controls at the moment and, in all honesty, her body really, _really_ wanted her to lay back down and go back to sleep despite the fact that she'd just woken up from a 12-hour nap and was really hungry. Right now their group consisted of Rorek, Jinx, Beast Boy, Cyborg, Lady Eisen, and Nightwing. They were headed for the cafeteria where they'd be meeting up with Arella. Raven wondered if the painting had been framed yet and hoped to Iiam Bormah that, if it had and Arella had brought it, there was a cover over it.

Someone was listening to her prayers because, when they met up, Arella produced the canvas wrapped in plain tan cloth. Raven took it and put it in the sub-space pocket she was currently wearing on her wrist. Rorek had detached it from her belt for her and had even made the band out of gold. Not pure gold, obviously, but it did shine enough to get attention. She just hoped no one realized it _was_ gold and not brass or bronze with that special polish. Rorek might give his gold to Raven but she was pretty sure a dragon would be mighty reluctant to give very much to anyone else, especially when he knew that getting more would be a bit difficult.

The conversation was pleasant enough but Raven couldn't seem to concentrate. She was able to eat her food but after that her eyelids just wouldn't stay open. She tried to keep listening with her eyes closed but it just wasn't working. She kept drifting off, waking up every few minutes knowing full well that she wasn't fooling anyone. But, for the sake of her pride, they pretended not to notice. The chair had been leaned back for her and a pillow had popped up from somewhere in the mechanics that braced her head. It wasn't in full sofa mode since that would make it difficult to maneuver around but it was way too comfortable to stay awake in. Eventually she gave up and succumbed to sleep.

(O)

She hadn't been using her dreamscape lately. She hadn't really been able to since she was nodding off to sleep too swiftly to catch herself. However, this didn't seem to be a problem anymore. So far as she could tell her dreams were free of all perceivable god activity, and she was pretty sure she'd know if they weren't. Those dreams were way too vivid and stuck in the mind. So whichever god or, as it might be, titan that had been trying to contact her had either given up or no longer had the strength.

She still needed to tell the twins about the god in the mirror. Probably it'd been a god, though for all she knew it could have been a titan. Whatever it was, it hadn't been the same as the god that kept trying to contact Raven in her dreams. Raven never got a good look at that one but she was pretty sure that it'd been male.

She remembered that dream she had where Trigon kept trying to convince her to help them. But it hadn't really been Trigon at all, had it? That was just a dream. A weird dream that she remembered a bit too clearly, but a dream nonetheless. Unless, of course, Trigon was somehow talking to her via her stomach, haha. If she'd known then what she knew now it was likely Trigon would have told her that he needed mustard or something.

That seemed to have become a running joke between her and the twins. 'Let's eat our parents! Where's the mustard?'

These things passed through her mind as she drifted in that pleasant state that was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. It was a pleasant state to be in. She always felt like, in a way, she got her clearest thinking done like this. Outside meditation, that is. Perhaps it was because her body was still in a resting state so the brain didn't have quite as much to do as usual. Admittedly her thinking wasn't particularly swift, she often repeated herself in her own head, and she couldn't stay focused on any one thing for too long, but there was simply a feeling of clarity, even if she couldn't choose what she was clear _about_.

She was waking up, though. She could feel her blood start to pump a bit faster and some motor control was returning to her limbs. Well, most of them. She opened her eyes and wondered, for a moment, what her bed was doing in the T-Tower's living room. Then she realized she _wasn't_ in her bed but the wheelchair's bed. It was pretty comfortable too. It wasn't laid out completely flat since this was, in fact, a _chair_, but it was pretty close. It had its own pillow and big fluffy blanket both built in, the blanket being electrically powered. There was something special about the blanket, what was it? Oh, right. It was designed to either heat or cool the body based on the temperature of said body and the desired temperature entered into the control panel. It wasn't a perfect design. After all, you took care of a fever by keeping the body warm and the head cool. So it was more like a personal air conditioner than a temperature regulator. But Raven was amazed at just how much thought and effort Cyborg had put into this thing. She was also amazed by how fast he'd built it, but he _had_ been working with the Azarathian technicians for much of it and they tended to cheat, IE: use magic.

At the moment it was a bit warm. Fortunately the temperature controls got an automatic shortcut whenever the blanket option was engaged and it only took her a few seconds to wake up enough to lower the desired temperature a degree or two.

She heard movement next to her as someone was stirring in their sleep. She looked over and saw Rorek was sleeping on the couch, pillow and blanket and all. He even had his scarf off. The light from her control panel must have woken him up because he blinked a little and looked over at her.

It was then that she realized that it was nighttime. She glanced outside the window and saw a black sky with stars. The clock on her control panel told her it was 4:00am.

She'd lied to Malchior when she said she couldn't see in the dark. In fact, she _could_ see in the dark. Even the pitch black darkness you only ever got in the deepest caverns that had never been warmed by the light of the sun. She hadn't always been able to; this was a recent thing. These days the only way she could really tell darkness from light was by the colors. In absolute darkness the colors were a bit different – a bit odd. It was like what happened whenever she stopped time. In fact…

In fact, that suddenly made sense. Light needed time to get from one place to another. It would slow and stop just like everything else when you messed around with time. It only made sense that, in a moment of absolute timelessness, there would be _no_ light at all.

That didn't explain how either Slade or Robin had been able to see back when she'd first done it on her birthday. But back then it'd been a bit different. The shadows hadn't been around quite as much and she hadn't had this kind of night vision. Of course, it could be that, when she grabbed Robin, she gave him some of her ability to see in the dark (or rather, in very dim lighting). But what about Slade? How had he been able to break into her timeless moment anyway? Unless…

Unless that first time she _hadn't_ actually stopped time, simply slowed it down, or 'sliced' it, so much that it'd _seemed_ to have stopped. Otherwise it didn't seem possible that Slade would even be aware that any change had taken place. There would not have been time for the knowledge to pass through his neurotransmitters.

So, was she actually _stopping_ time or simply slicing it so thin as to get a year out of a minute? That was something to think about.

"Sorry," she said to Rorek. "Didn't know anyone was here." she admitted.

"No matter. How do you feel?"

Like crap but she was keeping the pain off to the side where it wasn't actually bothering her. She decided to focus on something else. "Rested…and a bit hungry. I wonder what Cyborg has stored in the snacks compartment." she mused, finding the little switch on the chair itself that would turn it back into a chair. She arraigned the blanket so it was lying across her lap and then tried to remember what part of the panel proffered the snacks compartment. That was the problem with a multi-feature device. After a certain level the controls got way too crowded. At least the touch screen/tablet design meant that most of the features could be in one place and stored with detailed descriptions. "There it is."

"I am sure we can do better than snacks. You missed dinner after all." Rorek said.

"This should hold me until morning." she said, tapping the touch-screen button to bring up the little snack bar. The compartment popped out of the side of the chair and then rose up to present her with chips, dried fruit, and, for some reason, a box of cereal. She was about to reach for the dried fruit when Rorek's hand slipped around the little cabinet and tapped the button a second time, which returned the cabinet to its place. "Hey…"

"Raven, do not be difficult about this. It will only be a waste of energy. Let me take care of you. I am going to do so whether you wish me to or not and so you may as well allow it." he said.

"But it's four in the morning! Wouldn't you rather go back to sleep?" she asked.

"No. I would rather feed you." he answered, getting up and leaning over her, his hands braced on the arms of her chair and his face merely inches from hers. "Raven, I am well aware that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself under ordinary circumstances and I often find myself having to explain that the things I do for you I do because I wish to and not because I think you are incapable of doing them for yourself. But right now you _are_ incapable of doing these things for yourself and I would be lying if I said I wasn't just a little bit happy about that. Not that you are in pain, of course, but that you now have no choice but to let me take care of you. I _want_ to take care of you, My Love. Alright? Please allow me to do so. You will recover so much more swiftly if you do." he told her.

Raven sighed, knowing she was in no position to argue. "Alright," she said. "But I'm using the toilet by myself. I'm pretty sure I can manage that much even if I do have to use magic."

"Oh very well." he said with a dramatic sigh. He kissed her forehead and then went to raid the kitchen for cooking supplies.

She watched him go, her eyes naughtily straying to a particular part of him that she knew she probably shouldn't be looking at but, well, he was rather inviting it with those pants. She couldn't help but wonder what he and Malchior might look like in jeans and T-shirts. Or muscle shirts. In fact, forget the shirts.

Raven shook herself and turned her attention to the panel. She selected the option that would turn the armchair back into a wheelchair. The mechanics shifted quite smoothly under her. It felt a bit odd having your chair shrink while you were sitting in it and then harden as the cushioning had to be pulled out so as to make it smaller and more mobile, but at least she didn't have to get out of the chair. And it did leave the fluffy blanket.

There was now a blue sphere on the right arm of the chair which was supposedly the hover controls. It had a few buttons around it that should be easy enough for her fingers to touch with her palm on the sphere, but she wasn't entirely sure how this was supposed to work. She had expected a joystick but Cyborg insisted that the sphere was better in that she could turn it about to face a different direction. She decided not to point out that a large enough joystick could be twisted around like the sphere and would allow for better grip at that. But having something stick up out of the chair's arm like that would ruin its sleek look.

She had also decided _not_ to tell Cyborg that, while her body currently held certain VIEWS about her so much as sitting upright without support and walking was right out, her powers weren't thusly crippled and just levitating a regular wheelchair around wouldn't have been a problem. Besides, Rorek was right. The less she used her powers the swifter she could recover. So she was going to have to figure these controls out. Alright, let's see here. This button turned on the hover feature so she pressed that. The chair lifted a few inches off the ground very gently and very smoothly. Okay. Now, these buttons were the up-down controls so she went ahead and had the chair rise above the furniture just in case. Then she let her palm rest fully on the sphere.

It actually wasn't that bad. The sphere clung to her palm like a magnet and the slightest turn or roll was all she needed for the chair to move. Right, left, back, forward, and turning didn't actually require too much uncomfortable wrist-twisting. It was designed to stay in one neutral position like most game controller sticks so that an increased amount of roll or twist increased the speed. Right, she could do this. She could totally do this. She very carefully navigated to one of the side doors and spent a few minutes lining the chair up so it would go through the very center. Seconds later and she was really wishing for a joystick. Or, at the very least, some bumpers.

"Ow…" she moaned, rubbing her knee and wincing at the sharp increase of pain. Her body must be really sensitive to any little nudge. Either that or she managed to bang her knee harder than she thought.

Rorek chuckled behind her and took hold of the handlebars. To her slight surprise the chair allowed itself to be guided easily despite the fact that it was in hover mode. He took it to the bathroom and she decided not to argue. Actually her knee decided that for her and she went with it because it was easier that way.

He brought her all the way inside the bathroom as far as the chair would fit. "I'll wait outside for you to finish. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the hang of the controls soon enough." And he closed the door behind him.

Removing her wastes with magic and teleporting them into the toilet felt _very_ weird. For a moment her body didn't believe it had been cleared out and insisted she still had to go. But it adjusted and she flushed the toilet with a bit of levitation. Ugh. Well she probably could have levitated her body over to the toilet but this was a bit easier and much faster. "Alright, I'm done." she called. Rorek opened the door and took her back to the living room.

Looked like this was going to be her life for a while.

(O)

Malchior didn't want to see her. No, that wasn't true, Rorek insisted. He didn't want _her_ to see _him_. There was a difference. And he promised to take her down to see him when he was ready. Since there was nothing she could do when Rorek was determined like this she just gave a defeated sigh and excused herself to her room for a bit of solitude.

Then, when she was sure he was safely tucking himself away in his own room, she took herself to the basement.

Rorek had been right. A few hours of swearing at the controls in Draconic while she and Rorek waited for the rest of the Titans to start the day and she was getting the hang of this chair. She managed to get to the elevator without bumping anything, took herself down, and got down the stairs by pausing every once and a while to bring the chair down. She had to do this more often as the stairs descended into the more cavernous spaces and by the time she reached the bunker she was able to lower the chair and move forward at the same time so she didn't even need to pause.

When she got there she knocked on the door.

"Leave." Malchior snarled in response.

"Malchior, it's me. Let me in. I want to see you." she called.

"_No_."

Raven was startled. She'd expected some resistance, she'd expected to have to talk her way in, convince him that she really _did_ want to see him, whatever his state. What she hadn't expected was a flat 'no'. Malchior had never said 'no' to her before, not like that. She wasn't accustomed to the idea that either of the twins would actually _not_ want to be with her. It always seemed like they couldn't be happier than when she was around and she was always the one who needed space. That had been the way of it up until now.

Whatever this was, it had to be really bad. Maybe she _should_ just leave him alone but…but…

Something deep down was telling her that she needed to be here. That, yes, it _was_ bad, and that was why he needed her. He might not want her, but he did need her. She made a decision.

"I'm not leaving until I see you. Let me in!" she insisted.

"Rorek's coming down to take you back to your room."

Daanik! He really _was_ serious! "No!" she exclaimed. She tried the door panel but, lo and behold, he _did_ have it locked.

"Yes."

"Malchior I don't care that you used Blood Magic and I don't care what the aftermath looks like! I want to see you!" She was now hammering on the door.

"No, you don't. Stop exerting yourself and go back upstairs." he ordered.

"I won't! I'm not leaving you! Let me in!" she shouted. There was moisture stinging her eyes and cheeks and she realized she was crying. She was also giving herself the mother of all headaches and her body was screaming at her to lay back down and go back to sleep but she ignored it.

"Raven, stop! Just go. You'll hurt yourself." Malchior said, his tone taking on a note of pleading.

"I'm not leaving. Let me in!"

"No."

"If you won't open this door then I'll just come in another way!" she told him, knowing that she really, _really_ shouldn't teleport but also knowing that she wasn't about to let Rorek cart her off like some naughty little girl.

"_No_!"

She took a deep breath, knowing she probably had only seconds before Rorek showed up, and concentrated. It was a lot harder than it usually was, but years of conditioning allowed her the focus and discipline she needed. She teleported herself and the chair into the bunker.

"Damn it, Raven!"

There was a thunk and, suddenly, the lights went out. That is to say, the colors shifted and went a bit funny. The white was no longer white but a nebula of orange and lavender, the grays took on an odd green hue, and Malchior…Malchior was kneeling next to the light switch. He was covered in something obscenely bright and red, something that practically _glowed_.

It was blood. She knew it was blood. And it was _his_ blood. Some of it old and crusted – that blood _didn't_ glow. But some of it was fresh and still glistening from self-inflicted gouges in his skin. His expression was pained and his emotions were in turmoil. He did _not_ want her to see him like this, thinking he could hide in the pitch of absolute darkness. She felt a little guilty, but she felt even more certain that this was something she needed to see. This was the price of using Blood Magic, even to save the lives of you and your loved ones. There was always a price. For everything.

She maneuvered her silent hovering chair around the furniture towards him. He wasn't looking at her, he couldn't see her. _He_ couldn't see in absolute darkness, only with very little light.

"Rorek's just outside. I'm going to open the door and you're going to go with him. Understand?" he instructed.

"Malchior," he jumped, gasping, obviously startled by just how close she was. Close enough to reach out and touch his face, which she did. "I lied to you the other day. I _can_ see in the dark." And then she kissed him. She had to levitate in order to lean over far enough to do it, but she did it and she didn't regret it despite the taste of copper that filled her mouth and the scent of gore that filled her senses. She just accepted it. She accepted all of it from the taste to the scent to the sticky, crusty feel of it on her hand and whatever part of her face was touching his.

It wasn't fair that he had to pay the price of their escape himself like this and there was no way that she could take it from him or even share it so some of the burden was lifted from his shoulders. But just because he had to pay this price himself that didn't mean he had to deal with it _by_ himself. And so that was why she levitated herself out of her chair and into his arms, which closed around her automatically. He slid down the length of the wall, his legs falling out from beneath him with the result that she now had a lap to sit in. That was a relief. She kept her lips on his by dint of wrapping her right arm around his neck and holding on, pressing herself, and her left arm, against his very bare and very sticky chest, ignoring the fact that she, too, was getting covered in blood. It didn't matter. He needed her right now and she would be damned if she let a broken body, a lot of blood, or even his own stubbornness get in her way.

(8)

A/N: It's a bit sappy, I know, but this is a romance. You need a little sap now and again. :D

Coming up in the next chapter:  
The forces of evil have risen from their musty coffins to do the work of their lord and master, Satan, and I am the chosen sacrifice upon which they shall feed to grow in power and expensive watches!

Ugh, having to work Saturday again. Oh well, the overtime will pay for my new tablet :D (Well, sorta new. Factory Refurbished, actually, but the new ones are freaking expensive). Taking another vacation the week after next. Not the whole week but an extended weekend out of the state with my Dad and BFF. We'll be staying in my grandparents' old house which is currently vacant because it is very slowly falling down the edge of a cliff. JUST KIDDING! It's not actually falling down and the actual cliff is only about 18 feet high and quite a few yards behind the house itself (and if it did fall down it'd be falling on a shopping mall LOLZ). It's just that SOME of the landscape fell creating these two big huge fissures that caused the houses on either side to be condemned. And my grandmother is the grandmother of all worry warts so they moved out. Too bad it probably won't last the next 20 years. It's a nice house.


	55. Request

A/N: So tired…brain does not want to work…XP

(8)

_What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? __**What**__**have**__ I done? __**What**__ have I __**done**__? What __**have**__**I**__ done? __**What**__**have**__ I __**done**__? __**What**__**have**__ I done? __**What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I done? What have I – **__[The rest of the page is torn]_

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 55 – Request**

"This is a nice chair."

"Yeah, it is. I should do something nice for Cyborg to say thank you. Such as…giving it back to him when I don't need it anymore, which I suspect is the outcome he's hoping for."

"Awww, must we?"

She chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Maybe I'll wait until he gets up the nerve to ask for it." That'd certainly give her a bit more time to enjoy having a dragon teddy bear without actually having one in her bed, as it were. And she might as well have a reason to enjoy the wheelchair since she was stuck in it for the next few weeks.

"Mmm," He caught her lips up in his and gave her a kiss that left her slightly breathless. "So, what's been happening topside?"

She had to take a moment to regain her ability to think and then tried to remember the influx of information that had been imparted to her that morning. "Well, Jinx is back in her shop and Kid Flash seems to have decided to take up semi-permanent residence in Jump. But he's staying in the shop itself so that frees up a few rooms. Terra is staying, though she's still a bit shy about leaving her room." She sighed, feeling a little despondent. Terra hadn't made an appearance at breakfast. That meant that Raven hadn't seen her since they parted to go fight Mother Mayhem. "Did we ever tell you about Terra?"

"I think she was mentioned when we were discussing some space issues and there was a distinct lack of enthusiasm for allowing her room to be made use of. But, mostly, she was the one who told me. She came down to bring me my food one time when Cyborg was busy and we sort of…opened up to one another. We seem to have a few things in common. I hope that's alright."

"Malchior, you are allowed to have female friends in this day and age. I trust you. Just keep your affection in the friend zone and it's fine." she assured him.

"As long as it goes both ways." he murmured against her lips.

"You're the only two I've ever felt for like this, Malchior. You have nothing to worry about." she insisted.

"Ah ha, I saw what you did there." he snickered. His lips took hers more firmly so that verbal communication was no longer possible. Well, coherent verbal communication wasn't possible. A few spill words came through from his side that brought the blush right back.

Getting cleaned up had taken a bit of an effort. Raven wasn't sure why, but there was something about blood that made it extremely hard to clean with or without magic. Eventually they'd had to settle for Malchior carrying her into the shower where they made use of combining water, soap, and magic and came out with clothes that would have been soaked had said magic not been involved. Then Malchior laid her down on the sofa while he cleaned the blood off her chair with bleach and wet wipes. She showed him the bed feature and promptly passed out wrapped in his arms and the blanket, her body giving her hell for the crap she'd just put it through and promising at least two more days of extra recovery time. Oh well. It was worth it. The turmoil of Malchior's emotions had melted away to be replaced by a sort of light-headed sense of relief that one might get after a bad stomach virus.

At the moment they were, in theory, watching a movie (which wasn't getting very much attention). Rorek had brought it down along with supper and then he left. Raven had kind of wanted him to stay but, as Malchior pointed out, there was only enough room on the chair for one Raven and one dragon. Besides, Rorek had had her all to himself for a few days now, even if she could only stay awake a few hours at a time.

Malchior had put on a fresh pair of pants but had left his shirt off. If he had been a human guy then Raven wouldn't have allowed him in the chair with her without a shirt. But he was a dragon. And, for dragons, pre-marital hanky-panky was only available to the seriously suicidal. On the one hand that didn't seem very fair. Why should dragons be punished so severely like that when humans weren't? On the other hand it did mean she had an assurance that neither of them would try to take things too far. All she had to worry about was a certain violet-cloaked emotion and The Other making demands that she knew for a fact she wasn't ready for – pre-marital or otherwise.

"So…" Raven began when they broke off again, "Am I forgiven yet?" she asked.

"You mean for putting yourself in danger, overexerting and stressing your weak body, and performing magics you really shouldn't be attempting for any reason while defying my express wishes all for the purposes of coming to me when I needed you most regardless of my own opinion on the matter?" He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Sometimes a man needs to be alone with himself and his thoughts. That wasn't one of those times. I don't think you're the one who needs to be forgiven."

"I knew you wanted to be alone and I felt I should have given that to you. How often have I needed my own solitude? But it just didn't feel right to me. I felt too strongly that I needed to see you." she explained, resting her head in the crook of his neck, her ajna chakra pressed against his skin. She felt him shiver slightly and wondered if he could feel the stone through his neck as well. In fact, she was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that he was just a bit _ticklish_ in the neck area. She carefully controlled her features lest he might somehow detect the gleeful little smile that wanted to appear there.

"You were right." he murmured. "I was in a bad…a bad place at the…I was…are you doing that on purpose?"

"Doing what on purpose?" she asked innocently, idly tracing the chains of knots that trailed down his neck from his jaw. The skin of the markings was particularly smooth and rather cool. She wondered if Rorek's markings would be warm.

"_That_." He grabbed her hand and returned it to his chest where it had been exploring the larger knots. "You probably shouldn't do that." he said.

Feeling particularly mischievous and eager for revenge, Raven asked, "Why? Are you ticklish?" She nuzzled his neck affectionately.

"No-o." he answered shuddering with, she suspected, suppressed laughter.

"Oh I think you are." She giggled, part of her blankly wondering where this boldness was coming from. She kissed his Adam's apple and then craned her neck around to the side of his neck that wasn't pressed against the chair and started to nibble slightly the way he and Rorek had both done to her.

Malchior let out a gasp that not even she could mistake for suppressed laughter and followed it up with a groan that he managed to cut off as he pulled himself out of her arm and actually rolled over the arm of the chair and right onto the floor, which he more or less belly-flopped.

A bit confused an quite sure she'd just missed something, Raven managed to pull herself over to the edge of the bed/chair where Malchior had not bothered to get up, still flat on his stomach. "Er…are you alright?" she asked.

"Fine! Fine!" he managed to rasp out hoarsely.

"Can't take what you dish out, can you?" she asked.

He groaned, but this one was very different from the last. This was a groan of long-suffering. "Maybe I should explain…"

"Explain what?"

"Dragons are…a bit…well…_sensitive_ in the, um, neck area. Even in human form. It's not a weakness but it is a very…focused area."

A few dots lined themselves up in Raven's head and clicked into place. Her face with very, _very_ red. "Are you trying to tell me that it's an erogenous zone?" she demanded.

"Um…more or less…yes…a bit…" he admitted sheepishly.

"And you and Rorek have been nibbling on _my_ neck all these times?"

"That's different!" he exclaimed defensively. "You're not a dragon, you're just ticklish. It doesn't count."

"Uh huh, _and_ you don't have any problem letting me see and, good grief, _hug_ you without a shirt on."

"_Showing_ the neck isn't taboo. In fact, back in our time, most dragon males never bothered with shirts or chest coverings at all. Only certain clans decided that the neck should be covered."

"So you think you can get away with feeling up my neck just because it's not an erogenous zone for me?"

"Er…are you wanting us to stop? I mean…" _'You seem to enjoy it.'_ were the words he _didn't_ say, but she heard them anyway.

No, she didn't really want them to stop and she _did_ kind of like it when she wasn't being teased about being ticklish (she was NOT ticklish! Just a little bit…sensitive. Not THAT sensitive, but probably a bit more so than most people).

She thought about it for a second. "Make you a deal: Stop accusing me of being ticklish and I won't make an issue of this."

"But you _are_ ti—"

"A-a-ah!"

"Deal." he relented.

"So, uh…how long are you going to lay there?"

"Just…give me a few more minutes."

"Right…" She laid back down because her muscles were starting to complain a bit loudly and because her entire face felt very, very warm. Perhaps it was a mercy that she fell asleep again only a few minutes later.

(O)

"Cybrog, I don't need painkillers! I'm not in pain!"

"That's not what the brain scan says."

"Alright, the pain is there. But Azarathian monks have the ability to put their pain where it doesn't actually bother them and that is what I'm doing!"

"Talk to the hand, Rae."

"Take your medicine, Love."

"You're enjoying this!"

"I admit I am interested to see how you act when you are all drugged up."

"I usually fall asleep. Which, given that I keep doing that anyway, might mean I'll probably go into a coma."

"Nice try, Rae."

The worst part was that he was attaching the IV to her left wrist so she couldn't twist out of his grip. And then he was going further and cleverly binding it up into her cast so there was no way she could pull it out. Then the wire was being attached to some part of her chair that, apparently, had a built-in drip system just waiting to be filled up with whatever drug Cyborg deemed necessary.

"At least make it a low dose." she pleaded.

"You'll get the dose I think you need, Rae."

And so that was why she was all but completely out of it when Marlen Zanith and Arella decided to come by the tower and check up on her.

"Well, er…how is she?"

"She's not too happy about the opiates."

"Really? She looks very relaxed. Uh, Raven? Can you hear me?"

That was about as much as she remembered before passing out again.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been, though. Raven's body developed immunization faster than humans which was therefore a bit faster than Cyborg's machines expected and she wasn't quite as out of it as Cyborg likely intended. Unfortunately all this meant was that she was just lucid enough to start thinking up stupid ideas in the name of having a little fun while the drugs took care of the part where she actually believed they had merit. So it was a blessing that she kept falling asleep before she could carry anything out.

Four days of reluctant foggy bliss passed and she was only mildly aware of it. The girls of the tower helped her use the bathroom since the drugs made magic a _really_ bad idea. But apparently she flat-out refused to let them bathe her and could not be convinced that it needed to be done since rational thinking was taking a forced vacation in the Bahamas. She'd apparently raised such hell over the issue that they stopped trying for fear that she'd hurt herself and they didn't feel right doing it while she was out cold. She wasn't surprised. She was not the sort of person who liked to be…exposed like that. Yes, she knew they were all girls, but there was nothing prudish about this. Otherwise she wouldn't be flying around in leotards and unitards would she? It took considerable effort for her to take off her clothes in front of someone else even if they _were_ other girls. There was no way a drugged up Raven would see any reason to make this effort, however.

So that was why, on the fourth day, Cyborg relented and took her off the drugs. She was starting to smell.

The excessive sleep had done her some good, though. She could actually move the fingers of her left hand a bit. That was a huge relief for her. Rorek had assured her that she would regain the use of that arm but not until a finger actually started twitching did she stop dreading that it'd be immobile forever. It still hurt. Everything still hurt. But she could set the pain aside and function just fine without opiates, thanks so much. Perhaps she'd _like_ to find some other way of dealing with the pain, but if the only other option was to chemically fill her head up with cotton then she'd do without. She simply did not understand why so many people liked having their brain so much more out of their control than usual. Sure it felt nice, but so did a lot of other things.

By the time she was back to full awareness, Terra was frequenting the living room – though only sparsely – and what time she was spending there probably had something to do with the joint efforts of Beast Boy and Malchior. Malchior being the one to grab her by the collar when she tried to leave and then placing her in the comforting trap of Beast Boy's hug. No one was talking about the past. No one _had_ talked about the past. It was a subject that all involved avoided and those not involved were respectfully following suit. Raven knew this because she could feel the tension and thickness of words unsaid hanging in the air like Christmas decorations made of spill words. This wasn't good.

Oh sometimes you needed to leave a subject alone for a while, but that sort of thing was like a bandage. Eventually it had to come off so that the wound could breathe and heal properly. And, right now, the wound was at the point of festering under said bandage. So, after making sure she was completely in her right mind and the drugs were all a distant memory, Raven waited for Terra to finally be allowed an escape back to her room and followed her as surreptitiously as she could.

Terra didn't lock her door – a dangerous habit in a building with people (coughCyborgcoughBeastBoycoug h) who thought barging in unannounced was the best way to cheer up a gloomy-reclusive friend. Figuring Terra would probably freak out and try to hide if she announced herself, she simply opened the door and went in. Terra's back was to the door and she was bending over something on her in-room table.

"We all forgave you, you know."

Terra jumped and spun around, giving Raven a look that a deer might have if it saw the lights of a small airplane coming right for it.

"A long time ago." she went on. "Yes, your betrayal hurt. A lot. But you were sorry. We forgave you. You'd be surprised what we can forgive. I know Malchior told you about his own past, but did he tell you that when we first came into contact with Rorek he attacked us? And that suit Red X is wearing was stolen from our own vault. Nightwing made it. Oh, and then there was that time when I destroyed the world. Fortunately I was able to bring it back again so that was alright. I still have nightmares about it, though. Oh, yeah, and I almost killed the twins that one time, nearly gutted Slade myself but I'm pretty sure there was no love lost there, and very nearly let loose a horde of impossibly powerful and immortal beings that would have made the Church of Blood look like Control Freak jacked out on amphetamine. That I didn't do it was a very near thing.

"You did something terrible, but you realized your mistake and turned around to fix it. We forgave you. Now all that's left is for you to forgive yourself and that's not easy. Not for those of us with enough morals to feel shame. Our mistakes cling to us, hovering, lingering in our minds like a cancer. In a way that's a good thing. We need some of that so we know not to make those mistakes again. But once the lesson is learned then the guilt is an unnecessary pain and we need to let go of it. Perhaps a way of doing that is to simply come out and say 'I'm sorry'. Not for us, but for yourself. So that you can know you said it and you can hear us say 'we forgive you'."

The dam broke. Terra burst into tears and threw her arms around Raven's shoulders, having to bend down and over in order to do it, her words running over themselves to be heard. 'I'm sorry' was in there several times but so were a lot of other words that Raven didn't quite catch all of. But she managed to obtain the basic gist as Terra gabbled on about the Titans, Slade, things that happened before and after, her self-induced amnesia, learning that they were in trouble, and Slade again. Slade convincing her that he was trying to save the world this time and she went along just in case he was telling the truth.

Then she started to calm down a bit and her nervous chatter turned to assurances that she and Malchior were just friends, she really did like Beast Boy-er-Man, and Raven looked really pretty with her hair like that and maybe they, Starfire, Eisen, and Jinx could get together sometime to play with one another's hair and stuff and was Malchior really Rorek's evil twin because he didn't seem that evil to her and she kind of thought Rorek was a bit intimidating because he was so formal and polite it seemed like he was holding something back and what was the deal with that anyway? If they were both the same person then how come they seemed so different and even had different voices? She could understand if they were just different because she had had a few friends at school with split personalities but it didn't really make much sense that they had different voices and maybe she should stop asking about them because she knew they were Raven's and Malchior really was just a friend, no worries about that. Had she said that already? By the way, what did Raven mean back in the Church of Blood place when she'd said that Terra was 'hers'? She hadn't really wanted to ask anyone else in case it was embarrassing.

"It's a bit hard to explain." Raven said when, finally, Terra gave her a space to respond in. "When I, that Other side of me, referred to you as being 'hers' or, for the sake of not seeming schizophrenic, 'mine', I sort of mean that I considered you 'mine' in the way that Jump City is mine. It's not a sense of ownership, exactly. More like…territory. Jump City is mine in that it is under my protection and if any particularly potent magic-users that decide to show up then they will have to answer to me if they get out of line and will have to leave if I tell them to. Mine to protect; mine to take care of. In the magical community I'm the top dog in this city but that doesn't mean I _own_ it. Does that make sense? When I told Slade that you were 'mine', I meant that if he wanted to get to you he would have to go through me unless you went to him, and since that wasn't something you were going to do he had me to contend with. Same way with Red X when I told Slade that he was mine as well, regardless of what the federal government had to say about the matter. Though, in all honesty, they try not to get involved in the whole super hero/villain stuff these days. Too much paperwork and we tend to sort each other out when left to it. Even if there _is_ a mess to clean up afterwards. Anyway, does that answer your question?"

"So…you aren't mad about that time in the mud and stuff…?"

"Forgotten it already."

Terra beamed. Raven smiled. Then Terra's face shifted into a wide grin. "So, what's it like having two boyfriends at once?" she asked.

"I'm not sure I can make any definitive statements since I don't know what it's like having only one boyfriend. I can tell you that they tend to tag-team and gang up on me, which isn't fair. But, since they have no real choice but to share a girlfriend, what with one thing and another, I think there's enough unfairness all around that it evens out."

"What do you mean they don't have a choice? How does all that work, anyway?"

"It's complicated. They're silfron, which isn't the same as being twins."

"Yeah, Malchior told me about that. He said it's what happens when two dragons are born in one egg. But I didn't really understand what he meant."

"They're…they're like one person with two personalities and each personality has a body and, therefore, a brain to think with in that body. They are somewhere between being one person and being two people. To the deep magics, they are one being. But they're an anomaly. It's like…like Siamese twins, only instead of their bodies being born stuck together it's their souls. And it isn't easy to deal with, either. Sure there are some advantages, but they have to deal with a lot of issues that the rest of us don't."

"Like, having to share a girlfriend?"

"I think that's one of the big ones, yes. They used to fight over me, you know. It could have been an absolute nightmare if they hadn't had the decency to be subtle enough that I could pretend they were fighting just to be fighting. They're not supposed to do that, you see. They're not supposed to try and make me choose between them or pick favorites because, in all actuality, I _can't_. Oh they still do a bit of squabbling, but the understood agreement is that they have to work their issues out themselves and are not allowed to make me pick favorites."

"You know…to be honest, I kind of thought, for a while there, that you and Beast B-Man had something…" Terra admitted sheepishly.

"I think I would have killed him by now." Raven mused. "Speaking of Beast Man…" she began with a smirk. Terra went a bit pink, but she was smiling.

(O)

She was alone in the tower at the moment. Malchior and Rorek had both raised hell about that, but there was a very, very large crisis on the outskirts of Jump and there was more than one of them at that. Nightwing had tried to leave Rorek behind, but they were big, they were magical, and since the Jump City Titans were currently down one magic-user they really needed all hands on deck. Even Red X was gone. But he'd been on a few missions before now, claiming it was because he was bored.

She told herself not to worry. There were few things in this present world that could become a serious issue for two dragons, and the biggest one was over and dealt with. Right? It was just a matter of beating down whatever it was and they'd be back.

She had the chair in sofa mode with its book stand out and was reading the large volume of dragon literature that the twins had made for her. Curiously enough, dragons didn't have stories about just dragons. They did have those, but quite frequently they also had stories about just humans. And there were also stories about humans _and_ dragons. What she was reading right now was a story with both. A human girl had been found and raised by a dragon until he was caught and made to return her to her people on the basis that humans had to live as humans. But the girl had been raised up by this dragon to adulthood. What was more, she had been raised _as_ a dragon. More specifically, as a dragon female. And dragon females were…put it like this: The term 'culture clash' simply did _not_ cover it. At the moment it was more like a culture bloodbath since the human girl had a rather powerful Thu'um and no desire _what_soever to allow herself to be made a courtesan of the local duke. Knowing what she knew about dragons and what happened to them if they engaged in pre-bonding hanky-panky, the girl probably thought that killing the duke was an act of survival. Unfortunately no one else was going to see it that way except for another dragon and at the moment she was fighting her way out of the duke's castle, having picked up a pair of claymores that she was swinging around as though they were daggers. Raven wasn't sure how being raised by dragons could give you draconic strength, but since this was a story she decided to let that slide.

Suddenly she felt a surge of unfamiliar magic and she tensed, looking up. She narrowed her eyes upon the middle of the living room where something was starting to shimmer as it fought its way through the barriers. By the time she thought to start worrying, the shimmering became a glittering green portal and through it stepped Morgaine Le Fay accompanied by a handsome young man with long blond hair. Morgaine was in full armor this time with her hair pulled up and that mask over her face.

Raven closed her book and put it in the sub-space pocket on her wrist. She then put the book stand up and gave Morgaine a cold look. "I thought I told you to stay out of Jump City." she said evenly.

Raven _felt_ the smile even though she couldn't see it through that mask. "You are hardly in a position to enforce that at the moment, Raven."

Which wasn't entirely true. Actually, it wasn't true at all. Raven drummed her fingers on the right arm of her chair. "You know, I've always wondered about something. In the Justice League's reports they spell your name M-O-R-G-A-I-N-E, which is a bit elaborate to my mind. I mean, most everyone else spells it as simply M-O-R-G-A-N. Which one is it?"

"In fact, it is the second. The first was frequently used by my more superstitious enemies who believed that properly spelling my name would somehow summon me. A bit silly, but people are often silly, aren't they? Are you ready to go?"

"Are you responsible for the monsters heading for the city?" Raven asked.

"They are quite impressive if I do say so myself. Of course, such large golems are only ever temporary. But they'll last long enough. Come along, now. We have much to do." Le Fae held out a hand to Raven, as if expecting Raven would just come along like a good girl.

Raven took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then she made her second request.

She had been given three. That was how these things went. They weren't wishes, not exactly, but she'd used one to stop Jinx from getting pictures of her. She had hoped to use up the other two on petty things like that. But, perhaps, this was what they were for in the first place. They weren't payment, as such. They were a bit like payment, a bit like compensation, and a bit like insurance. Whatever they actually were, though, she was glad to have one now. Hopefully she wouldn't need the last one for anything this serious.

When Raven opened her eyes she looked directly into the dark shadows of _Morgan_ Le Fay's mask. "No, I am not going with you. Not now, not ever." she stated.

"You do not have much of a choice, I am afraid. Your friends are all busy with my golems at the moment and you do not have the power to fight me. Don't be difficult. You will only hurt yourself. Besides, I am quite certain that, once you see what I have to offer you, you will thank me."

"No."

"By force, then." Le Fay said, turning her hand and sending a ball of green spellfire at Raven.

Raven's shadow morphed and became a circle around her. Whatever Morgan Le Fay's spellfire had been meant to do, it didn't work.

"What? What is that?" she demanded. "You can't have enough power to fight me." she stated, almost accusingly.

"I don't." Raven answered in a low voice. "But I do have friends. Leave now. Stop those golems of yours and keep your business out of mine, keep your hands away from what is mine, and I will do the same. This is your last warning. There is a spell in The Mortix for killing gods and if I see hide or hair of you one more time I will hunt you down and give it a try. Do you understand?"

"You seem quite confident in these friends of yours." Morgaine Le Fay observed. "Where are they?"

"Look down."

They were gone barely a second later.

Raven looked down but wasn't really in a position to see her shadow very well. Instead she _felt_ it return to its proper shape, that being a nondescript blob on her left. She relaxed and pulled her book back out, wondering if she should tell the others about Le Fay.

No, probably not. The twins would go postal and probably hunt her down. Oh there would be no love lost there, but Le Fay had only intended for the golems to _look_ like they were going to attack the city to lure the Titans away. This was likely the only reason she'd been able to do it in the first place. Having them _actually_ attack the city would have violated her contract. And besides that, she'd only intended some temporary kidnapping which would have been very temporary indeed since Raven was pretty sure Rorek and/or Malchior had placed a tracking spell on her somewhere. She hadn't found it yet, but she suspected its existence. It was probably in the sapphires they'd given her. Or in one of her other gems. Very likely there was one in the goshenite stone on her wrist that Rorek had made that band for. The point was that it felt a bit…wrong to set out with the intent of slaying a villain that was no longer going to be a threat. And unless Morgan Le Fay was incredibly stupid and had a gift for forgetting her nightmares, then they wouldn't be hearing from her again for a long time, if ever.

(O)

"HELP!-!-!"

Raven jerked awake and looked around wildly. Living room? No. Her room. Felt a bit crowded – ah, yes, there was Rorek with his arms around her and there was…Red X? What the—ugh, she KNEW they should have locked the door.

"Raven! Raven! You gotta help me! I'm in big trouble. BIG trouble! And I swear it wasn't anything I did this time!"

"Wha…?" Raven rubbed her eyes. Rorek stirred and gave Red X an irate look but he went ignored.

"The forces of evil have risen from their musty coffins to do the work of their lord and master, Satan, and I am the chosen sacrifice upon which they shall feed to grow in power and expensive watches! You've gotta help me!"

"Uh…did Slade come back from the dead again?" Raven asked blearily, managing to sit up with Rorek's help.

"Worse! His lawyers found me! HELP!"

Raven blinked, rubbed her eyes again, and took another look at Red X. "Alright, calm down and tell me what happened. Slowly." she instructed.

"It was at the grocery store! I went with Cyborg and Beast Man to pick out some stuff of my own and these three guys in black suites and briefcases walk up to us and say, 'Sebastian Wilson?' and I said, 'Depends on which parent you ask.' and then I said, 'hey hang on, how come you know that name?' and they said, 'Mr. Wilson, we are associates of the presumed dead Slade Wilson.' And then I said, 'Associates how? Like cronies? 'Cause I'm kinda with the Teen Titans now, dude.' and they said, 'No, Mr. Wilson, we are, or were, his lawyers.'"

"Alright, so what did they want?"

"No idea. I bolted. The teleporter on this belt is pretty awesome. I'm sure Cyborg and Beast Man will be alright, though. They've come face-to-face with Trigon, right? They'll know how to handle the situation."

"I am not entirely sure I understand how these lawyers are so terrifying to you, but Malchior is currently laughing a great deal." Rorek said.

"What do you expect me to do?" Raven asked. "Lawyers aren't classified as villains. At least, not the kind that we deal with. They don't break the law and are, in fact, very good about _not_ breaking the law. It's not like we can give them a good kicking and then throw them in jail like all the others."

"Yeah, but you intimidate people!"

"So, why do you think I'm a better candidate for this than Malchior who, I must point out, is _not_ stuck in a wheelchair?"

"Maybe 'intimidate' isn't the right word. I mean, Malchior isn't creepy-scary like you! I don't think they'll be impressed by the whole demon look on him. You, on the other hand, can make people afraid of their own shadow." Red X pointed out. "PLEEEEEEASE! They know where I'm staying now! They'll be here any minute I just know it!"

"Alright, alright. Just give me a few minutes, we'll be right out."

Red X turned out to be right, at least where the arrival of the lawyers was concerned. That was a bit surprising, though not half as surprising as the reason they were there.

"_How_ much?"

"All legal, I assure you." Mr. Dawson, the head lawyer, told him pointedly. "We are well aware of the late Mr. Wilson's…_other_ ventures, but he has given us no instruction in regards to them and we have chosen to think of same as nonexistent."

"Yeah, alright, but _how_ much?"

"Present income of the late Mr. Wilson's various estates and investments, after taxes have been levied and paid, amounts to an average of 350,000 per year while cash on hand, after inheritance taxes, various fees, and various other parts of Mr. Wilson's will have been carried out, amount to…" Here the layer rustled a few pages to find one with a long line of numbers, one of which he read aloud. It was a pretty hefty amount.

Cyborg whistled. "Daaaaaaaang…"

"I guess it makes sense when you think about it." Nightwing came in. "All those robots he used? Those things don't grow on trees, you know."

"Here is a full list of the estates and investments of Mr. Wilson's capital." Mr. Dawson said, handing a piece of paper over to Red X. It was full of small print. "You will be pleased to know that everything has been arranged and taken care of. Mr. Wilson was—"

"_Hawaii_?-!" Red X burst out suddenly, his eyes on the paper. "Slade has a house in _Hawaii_?-!"

"Ahem, yes, a facility on the island of Honolulu baring roughly 6,000 square feet and quite a few acres of land leading up to and including a prime beach area that is most generously opened to the public on weekends. I have a detailed list of holdings and their values right here." Mr. Dawson produced a very thick wad of papers and handed them to Red X, who then passed them on to Raven, who handed them to Nightwing, who, having lived with Bruce Wayne, would know more about this stuff than she would. Especially since half of her still wanted to think in terms of a gemstone currency.

"Heh, a beach too, huh?" Red X said weakly. "Looks like next vacation's on me, guys." he said.

"AWESOME!" was the multi-voiced cheer.

"Wait a minute, Waxwall Manner? As in Jump City's Waxwall Manner? That's, like, one of those big mansions over in the suburbs!"

"Mr. Wilson made all the necessary arrangements in the past two years and some time ago gave clear instructions that all holdings, estates, investments, safety deposit boxes, and all other items or titles under his name were to be passed over to you as his son and heir in the not inconsiderable likelihood of his death. Which, he vouchsafed, would be assured if we did not hear from him again in the time frame of four weeks. All that is left is for you to sign these documents and give some proof of your identity."

"This proof being…?"

"A particular mark of unknown origins on the back of your neck."

"You mean this thing?" Red X stood up, turned around and pulled up the back of his mask while pulling down the collar. This exposed a small black Mark of Scath that had a very…well, _permanent_ look to it. It was also in the midst of some considerable scar tissue, as though X had tried very hard to have it removed without any success whatsoever. A bit chillingly, Raven couldn't help but wonder if it was a tattoo or paint at all. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, it had the look of a birthmark instead. A black birthmark.

The laywers each made a show of studying it and comparing it to some image on their phones and each of them nodded their confirmation.

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson. Now all that is left is to sign." Mr. Dawson the produced a phone book's worth of documentation.

X groaned. "This is going to take all week, isn't it?"

"Yep, probably." Nightwing let out a laugh and slapped X on the back. "Looks like someone's loaded! Guess you won't be mooching off us anymore."

"Mooching?-! Hey! I've been pulling my weight, haven't I? And what about that scroll I gave Raven? Wasn't that worth my stay? Huh?"

"X, I was joking."

"Oh…right…By the way, Raven, can I trust these guys?" X asked.

"Mr. Dawson seems loyal and steadfast to me. I'm unsure about Mr. Mason. He'll probably seek your best interests right up until the money stops flowing as easily as he expects. But I wouldn't trust Mr. Gaskin two inches." she answered.

"Right, Gaskin's fired." X stated, picking up the first piece of paper.

"W-what?-!"

"I shall ready the paperwork immediately upon my return."

"Sir, I protest this! You cannot seriously trust the moment's assessment of this—" Gaskin stopped. He'd caught Raven's eye. He swallowed. "I'll wait by the car…" he said, and he swiftly excused himself. Cyborg showed him down to the garage.

"Here is our contact information and the information of Mr. Wintergreen, the late Mr. Wilson's butler. He will be delighted to hear from you, I'm sure." Mr. Dawson said. "Please inform me immediately when you have completed those documents."

(O)

Raven watched the fingers on her left hand. They were moving quit easily now, and with only a moderate amount of extra pain. She still couldn't lift her arm, not yet, but she _could_ feel the muscles coming back to life.

They were alone, the three of them. Nightwing and Starfire were on a date, so were Terra and Beast Boy. Lady Eisen had decided to go help Red X settle into his mansion, and Cyborg was down in the garage giving his car some love. So they had the living room couch all to themselves. Malchior was idly flipping through the channels on the television.

"Ten thousand channels and still nothing to watch." he grumbled.

"That's what the On Demand feature is for." Raven said.

"By the way," Rorek began, "I'm not sure anyone has thought to tell you this, but the kids, Melvin, Timmy, and Teether? They've been adopted."

"Adopted?" Raven asked, taken aback. Her mouth opened to shape the words, 'But they're mine' and she only just managed to stop herself. They weren't her kids. Not really. A real mother was around more often. A real mother raised her own kids and didn't hand them over to different variations on the theme of monk to be taken care of. They needed someone they could call 'Mom' or even 'Dad' on a regular basis. And she simply didn't fulfill that role. It was _good_ that they'd found someone, or that someone had found them. This was a good thing, good for them, for their future…

So why did she feel so sick?

Rorek smiled at her. "Yes, by Arella. She says they call her 'granny'."

"Oh." Well…well…that was a lot better. Raven felt distinctly cheered up.

Rorek leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You would make an excellent mother, My Love." he murmured.

Raven felt her cheeks burn bright red. There had been an implication in that statement that was making her feel suddenly warm all over. She sought for some way of changing the topic to something a bit safer and more comfortable. "So…so what was going on with Damien last you heard? Is he alright?"

"Oh, that's right, you were asleep. Yes, he's doing quite well now and is a full-time member of Titans Europe, though if certain interested parties inquire as to his whereabouts, we do not know this." Malchior answered.

"Understood." Raven said, smiling a little.

Malchior gave up and turned the TV off. "You know, it occurs to me that we haven't been on a date yet."

"Is it necessary?" Raven asked. "I always thought that the purpose of a date was to get to know the other person." she said.

"Well, there's also the purpose of spending time together away from everyone else." Malchior pointed out.

"Preferably somewhere remote so the three of us can be together without comment regarding our number." Rorek stated.

Actually, that sounded kinda nice. Maybe a beach somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, just the three of them. "It'll have to wait. That is, if you want to leave the chair behind. I still can't walk very well and one needs two working arms for crutches." she said.

"Of course, of course. But you are recovering quite swiftly." Rorek said.

"Besides, it'll give us time to find somewhere suitably remote and romantic." Malchior added.

A gray bunny-sized hare hopped up onto Raven's lap and curled up. Its spill words reading a very loud and clear 'pet me'. Raven did so.

"I think Ru wants to come along." Rorek chuckled.

"I think there's something weird about that animal." Malchior forwarded.

"She's a familiar. And you know how magic stunts one's growth." Raven pointed out.

"Yeah, but even familiars aren't _that_ smart. She can understand every word we say, I know it. She just ignores us most of the time." Malchior grumbled. "_And_ she keeps giving me these looks like she thinks she's my mother or something."

'_He stole an article of your clothing a while back, by the way. But he keeps it in his sub-space pocket so I haven't been able to return it to you.'_

Raven blinked at the one beady black eye looking up at her. _'What article?'_ she asked. _'Or do I want to know?'_

'_Probably not. Want me to make a mess on his bed?'_

'_No, don't. I'll just steal something of his in retaliation.'_

"By the way, Love…do you remember that, erm, that dress you were wearing when…when we found you again? In the…the Church of Blood facility?"

Trying hard not to show her guilty embarrassment, she answered, "Maybe. Why?"

"Did you…keep it, by any chance?" There was more than just a hint of hope in his voice there.

"Um…" She was bright red now and glancing sheepishly between Malchior and Rorek. "Maybe?" she offered.

Rorek took her right hand and brought it to his lips. "We have been wondering if there is any chance you might be willing to wear it again." he said softly.

"You don't think that'd be…I mean, Mother Mayhem made me put it on…the Church of Blood made it for a demon. Seems kinda…wrong."

"Then don't think of it like that." Malchior said, nuzzling her neck. "Think of it as a trophy. Blood Magic has been defeated once more. Here is your proof."

She could work with that. Now she just had to come to terms with the odd sensation of actually wanting to be…well, girly for once in her life. Maybe she could get Eric to do her hair again. Maybe…

(8)

A/N: I was originally intending to end it here but I decided I wanted to write out their first date. :D Also there are a few other things to wrap up as well. So, one more chapter everyone!

Coming up in the next chapter:  
I declare myself queen of this castle. All who object are welcome to lodge a formal complaint with my hand.

Technology is so frustrating sometimes. I purchased a refurbished Motorola Xoom tablet only to find out that it can't update on account of having software meant for CANADA. Why? I mean WHY? It was FACTORY REFURBISHED, IN the United States. The fact that, for some reason, they feel they have to use different software for different countries is ridiculous enough; IS A SIMPLE LANGUAGE PACK TOO MUCH TO ASK?-! But how hard would it have been to make sure the operating system matched the region it was being refurbished in!-? WHAT THE HELL!-? AND WHY WON'T IT LET ME UPDATE IN A DIFFERENT REGION? THIS IS SO STUPID!-!-! And, apparently, this happens a lot when you buy on Amazon :(. Fortunately there is a fix since it's only the software that's Canada-specific. It's just so annoying that I have to do it myself like this. Grumble grumble grumble gripe gripe gripe…


	56. Date

A/N: And the last chapter is extra-extra long! With a jaw-dropping shocker at the very beginning, too. :D

(8)

_Five months have passed since my last entry, but even now my hands shake. I do not wish to write this, but I feel I must. There must be a record, even if it is never read by anyone but myself._

_I have done the unthinkable. I never intended to use this spell and yet I have. I do not know myself, I do not know what thoughts took hold of me; I cannot even remember the moment it happened, not with any clarity._

_What I do remember is this: I remember the High Priest himself asking to speak to me. I remember a…a coldness, something shining. There was rage, hatred, and then…_

_Then my former friend, the dragon Ahzidyol, was staring at me with an expression of great terror and disbelief. "What have you done?-!" he cried. "You were never supposed to use that spell! What have you done?-! What have you become?-! Whose eyes look out from yours?" and he fled with a cry of such terror that I was stunned in place. And then I saw the book in my hands and I knew who was trapped within._

_The High Priest is now sealed within the very grimoire he had presented to me as a gift._

_~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs._

(O)

**Chapter 56 – The Date**

_What is it about me, these days?_ Raven wondered as she watched Red X nervously pace back and forth in a rather opulent sitting room of his mansion. It was one of many which, she had to assume, had been chosen at random. There was no way the 60-square-foot portrait of unicorns galloping through a flower-infested forest had had anything whatsoever to do with the choosing of this room. Red X – whom she would always think of as 'Red X' even when he was out of costume and being referred to as 'Master Wilson' by Mr. Wintergreen – must have been made blind by nerves.

But, really, what was it? Did she have 'tell me about your problems, I can fix them' written on her face? If not, then how come Red X, despite his proclamation that she could give people shadow-phobia, had decided to unload his life-story on her of all people? She had thought he and Lady Eisen would have bonded, but apparently their friendship consisted of picking on one another and playing video games in versus mode, which got highly competitive. He wasn't comfortable confessing his deep secrets to her.

So, why had he come to Raven? Well, because Raven could keep secrets and went out of her way to help a guy in a tough spot even when she didn't like him much. She'd certainly been there for Red X often enough both before and after the Church of Blood was finished – though at least he'd waited until she was on crutches before making the latter demands. But you didn't necessarily have to like someone to care about them.

It'd taken a lot of convincing to get him to actually go looking for this adopted grandfather of his. Eventually he had. And once he had it was almost ridiculous how easy the elderly man was to find. In all these years he'd never left that church. He wasn't the pastor anymore, but he was still there and still a major part of it.

At first the plan had been to go to this church on a Sunday morning, but even Raven could see that this might cause a bit of a scene.

"Yeah, especially if you burst into flames the moment you step inside, right?"

"Watch it, you. Have crutches, will thwack."

So then Raven suggested he make a donation to the church. Not a _huge_ one. Large amounts of money cause large amounts of trouble and, shockingly, people who go to church on Sundays (a proper church, mind you, the kind that don't ask for you to cut your wrist into the offering plate and are perfectly willing to accept cash), are not perfect. They're people. Sure, you'd like to expect more from them, but people are people. If they were perfect they wouldn't need the church, would they? But it needed to be a large enough donation to get attention. And once it got that attention then, perhaps, the young billionaire might invite a certain retired pastor and his wife of the past five years to come to dinner. How could they refuse?

Red X had been pacing the drawing room for the past two hours asking the same questions over and over again in slightly different ways as though he'd get different answers.

"What if he doesn't recognize me?"

"Then you can tell him who you are. I have no doubt he'll remember you."

"What if he _does_ recognize me?"

"Don't you want him to?"

"What should I say?"

"What would you normally say?"

Which was probably why, when Mr. and Mrs. Phelting had been ushered into the sitting room and Mr. Phelting's face showed such obvious recognition that not even a sugar-jacked Pomeranian could have mistaken it for indigestion, Red X's response was, "Uh…hiya Gramps. Miss me?"

For a moment, Raven was worried that Mr. Phelting was going to have a heart attack. Then his face broke into a smile of such joy that she was acutely aware of the fact that she really, _really_ shouldn't be here. But Red X had insisted and wouldn't have gone through with it at all if she hadn't promised to come.

"Yes, Brian," Mr. Phelting answered, his throat tight and his voice choked. "I did. Terribly." His emotions were so strong, so overwhelmingly potent that they broke through Raven's defenses like a tidal wave through a sheet of glass. It took all the will she could muster to stop her own eyes from moistening with tears, and the joyful screaming of his spill words weren't helping much either.

Mrs. Phelting's jaw dropped. "B-_Brian_? You're _Brian_?" she yelped, her hands going to her mouth, jangling the many beaded necklaces she was wearing around her neck. "Oh, Nick, is it really him? You're sure?"

Mr. Phelting was sure alright. He threw his hands around Red X, who was only able to pretend to be embarrassed for a second before he decided he didn't care anymore and he hugged right back.

Deciding that if she didn't leave she'd probably burst into tears herself, Raven picked up her crutches and pulled herself to her feet. To her slight surprise, Mrs. Phelting followed her and even opened the door for her. She closed the door behind them and Mr. Wintergreen materialized to show them to another sitting room. Then he left, promising to bring them tea and cookies while they waited.

"It is Brian, isn't it?" Mrs. Phelting burst out suddenly. "Oh, I am so sorry, I forgot to ask your—" she stopped suddenly when she got a good look at Raven. Yeah, even wearing a sweater and jeans Raven wasn't too difficult to recognize.

"Raven." Raven answered unnecessarily. "And we don't exactly call him 'Brian', but I hope you'll keep that quiet."

"Of—of course. I…What do you…but what happened? Nick told me Brian ran away but it always seemed to me that he didn't quite believe it."

"I think I should let him decide what all to tell you. It's a bit…complicated. He didn't run away, but he couldn't come back until now. I'm more or less here for moral support, and because I can't exactly return to my chosen profession until I'm off the crutches."

"What happened to you, Dear?" Mrs. Phelting asked.

"A lot. But it's over now. That's all that matters."

(O)

"Has anyone seen my scarf?" Malchior asked.

"Many times." Raven answered, not looking up from her book.

"What's that you've got on your face? A bag?" Beast Boy asked.

"Ha ha, no. It's a spare, I have five but one of them is missing."

"Maybe Rorek took it thinking it was one of his." Nightwing suggested.

"No, we keep track. He doesn't have any more than he should. I'm starting to suspect that rabbit." he said, leering over at Ru, who was ear-deep in a bowl of salad.

"Hare." Raven corrected absently.

"Same thing." he said. "Anyway, last time I had that scarf was in our bedroom where she was sleeping." he went on.

Which wasn't true. The last time he'd had that scarf had been in _Raven's_ bedroom when The Other had decided enough was enough and she'd shoved Malchior against the wall, yanked his scarf off, and proceeded to do to him what he and Rorek frequently did to her; EG: Make his brain go all fizzy and seriously dampen his ability to walk. The Other with no personal experience had been able to put stars in Rorek's head. The Other in possession of a decent idea of what she was doing had probably made Malchior forget what a scarf even was for a while there.

And then she kept it. In fact, she was wearing it around her shoulders right now like a shawl. She wondered how long it would take for him to figure it out.

"On the subject of clothing theft," Raven began, and the barb in that statement was so huge and obvious that a clump of moss could have spotted it. "Something you want to tell me, Malchior?" she asked sweetly.

"You know it's probably in the wash I just forgot I'm going to go check!" he blurted out and was gone.

"Wow, guilty much?" Lady Eisen snickered. "Hang on a minute, what's that you've got around your neck?"

Raven lowered her book enough to smile impishly, "I'll give him back his scarf when he gives me back my missing cloak." Though she knew dannik well it wasn't a _cloak_ he'd stolen.

Nightwing laughed. "Nice one, Rae."

(O)

The weeks had passed. Most of them, especially at the beginning, had passed swiftly since Raven had slept them away. During that time she had managed to tell the twins about the god in the mirror and also report that there were no more gods in her dreams. It was over. And they all rested easier for it.

And, once her body stopped demanding a ridiculous amount of sleep from her, she'd gotten bored. She hadn't been allowed out in the field until she could do away with the crutches without cheating by way of levitation, so, while everyone else got a little excitement in their day, she was left at home.

And that was why she had joined the arts and crafts class that the Wax Ribbon was holding. Though arts and crafts for magic-users was…put it like this: There was a reason you weren't allowed to participate unless you were 18 and over. That reason being that if you blew yourself up as an adult then it was your own fault.

Raven's project had probably been the most boring out of all of them if only because there was no risk of explosions. For one thing, what she was making _wasn't_ magical. Magic was simply being employed by way of an event duplication charm (which, in programming language, would probably read as something along the lines of, 'what you do here happens there') and an Azarathian pen. The objects themselves had been made by people who had an easier time crafting things than weaving spells and were good at it – better than she was, certainly. They had made these to her exact specifications.

They were books. Large, thick books that were the exact same size, the exact same shape, and had the exact same number of thick black pages. The only difference was that one was red with black lining and the other was blue with white lining. The event duplication charm she had placed meant that she only needed to apply her pen to the pages of one book and whatever she did there would show up on the pages of the other book. This did require about twice as much ink as usual and she kept having to refill her pen, but it also meant that she wasn't having to draw the same thing twice.

The pen was quite special. It was a bit more like a marker than a pen, but it had an adjustable head that could go from pinpoint to finger-sized with considerable ease. The ink was also special. It was a new invention and Malchior had made sure – through Rorek – that they got a lot of it. Which they had. It was amazing just how far a tiny bit of gold went on Azarath. Especially when it was so pure you could leave marks in it with your fingernails. The reason the ink was amazing was because it was very easy to adjust the pigments with magic before you applied it to a piece of paper. So easy, in fact, that you could adjust them _while_ you were drawing your lines with the pen. It took a while to figure out the trick of it, but once she had…

Malchior would like this, she knew it. She hoped Rorek would as well. He probably would, it was just…

These designs were in color and against a black background. This was exactly as they should be. From her pen came abstract images of many different variations and colors. Some pages were monochrome with different shades of the same color, others had many colors, others only had a set range of colors, and still others were monochrome with flecks of defiantly different colors here and there. There was no order to them. Each page opened on to different images and designs, some of which filled the entire spread, some taking up small sections so a page could have up to twenty small knots of color each disconnected from one another. And the images flowed so freely and so easily that she sometimes couldn't stop and simply stayed in a dark corner of the Wax Ribbon after the class was over still working on it, the background music no more distracting than the chatter and sporadic bangs of the class itself. She hardly had to think about them at all. It was like the designs themselves were taking over her hand and directing her power to change the pigments to the color they wanted.

But as she neared the last few pages she started to wonder if she could really do this. It was bad enough letting someone see her pencil doodles and she'd even been shy about having Malchior and Rorek looking at the designs she put in her dreamscapes. This…this was so much…_more_. This was colored, just as they were meant to be. And it was on black paper, which fitted. It was like…it was…

It felt like she was laying herself out bare in these pages, exposing what she was in a way that went down as far as the soul. And that was silly! This wasn't _her_. This wasn't what or who she was. These were the patterns she saw when she looked at her unleashed power within the depths of a meditative state.

So why did she suddenly feel so reluctant to even _show_ them these books much less _gift_ them as she'd intended?

When the last page had been inked she suddenly felt terrified. Like she'd just laid herself out on a table and was not only naked but had her skin pulled back so that her organs were in full view and all it would take was the slightest touch in the wrong place to end her. She couldn't do it, she _couldn't_! She wished she'd never made these books in the first place! She should just burn them, burn them right now before anyone else saw them.

But…but…

But she wanted the twins to have them. And yet she felt so _exposed_. Like doing so would give them so much power over her and she couldn't understand why.

She'd often thought that artists put a bit of themselves into their work. Perhaps that was what this was. Perhaps there was some deep magic in this. Perhaps the simple fact of where these designs had come from was all it took and anyone who had the right kind of knowing could run their fingers over the pages and somehow be touching the part of her where that power dwelt. Deep down inside, down past the corporeal shell.

_Not yet,_ a soft voice whispered in her mind. _You're not ready yet._

She relaxed. No, not yet. She wasn't ready. She definitely wasn't ready. There was something…something else. Something more that had to be said, done, and explained. Perhaps there were several somethings. Bumps to be ironed out, different phases of the relationship to get through. And then…one day…

So she put the books in the same place that she kept Rorek's diary, the grimoire, and the scroll. It was probably the safest place in the world.

There were a lot more dolls in the chest now. She wasn't sure how she knew that, since there was never any distinct amount and the inner dimensions of the chest itself were up for debate, but they were there. She wondered if she should feel worried about that.

Books safely hidden, she picked up one of the rag dolls and ran her fingers through its yarn-like hair, untangling some of the knots.

"They were stone masks for Hrist."

Raven jumped and jerked 'round. Rorek was standing in the doorway of her closet, leaning against the frame. Raven found herself clutching the doll to her chest, almost as though she'd been caught with something embarrassing. But Rorek's eyes were soft and…understanding. She ran through his words in her mind. Hrist…Hrist…she vaguely remembered that name but couldn't quite place it. It was such a long time since she'd read Malchior's version of Rorek's diary. "What…what are you talking about?" she asked.

Malchior appeared next to him. "Rorek thought that it was our rings which protected the Titans from the higher glangs' poisons. It was not, however. Not even the nibelungen iron would have worried _them_. They may be crafted by Blood Magic but, somehow, they are not exactly _of_ it and do not have the same weaknesses."

"So what stopped them?"

"You did, My Love." Rorek told her. "In a way. Their association with you was their protection."

"Oh there have been some instances where an individual was not only immune to the higher glang but could actually cause damage should they so much as touch them. No one is quite sure why, but perhaps there are some people that Iiam Bormah simply says 'thus far and no further'. If there is one thing evil fears more than Faal Vopraan, it is Iiam Bormah Himself." Malchior explained.

"Faal Vopraan?" 'The Unresting'. Raven looked down at the doll in her hands.

"You are what is called a Dark Keeper." Rorek explained. "A Vuldein in the dragon tongue. There is a poem carved in a deep cave where one dragon tried to describe and explain what a Vuldein was."

"What's the poem?"

Malchior cleared his throat and recited it.

_Nust praan ko hin vokun  
Hin nust kopraan los haas  
Strun haalvut lein ko hi  
Faal Vopraan hon hin volaas_

_Nust los strun, hi los qo  
Hin aakhaalvut nust hind  
Ko hi los ro, ko hi kopraan  
Hi los jul se jul grind_

_Hin miinne tuz vulom  
Hi hon rot vosu'um  
Hi los se jun drehzul vul  
Nust yah hi ol veysun_

_Faal Vopraan praan hin vokun_

Raven translated these verses in her head.

_They rest in your shadow  
The shape you give them is a balm  
The storm touches earth where you walk  
The Unresting hear your song_

_They are a storm and you are the lightening  
Your guiding hand is their need  
In you is focus, in you is a body  
You are human as human they meet_

_Your eyes pierce darkness  
You hear words without sound  
You are of light and called dark  
They seek a ship and you are found_

_The Unresting rest in your shadow_

"Faal Vopraan…" she repeated. "That's what the dragons call them?" It seemed somehow more adequate a name than just 'the shadows'. For one thing, the words themselves _felt_ as though they had taken on flavor of the entities they named. Or, perhaps, these entities had accepted these words as their name. There was no way to tell with Draconic.

Ru had told her she wasn't the only one but she hadn't really considered what that meant until now. It felt…good. A sense of peace was settling over her and it took a moment for her to understand. She _wasn't_ the only one. This was something that had been going on for years – centuries – perhaps even since the beginning of time.

Vuldein, Dark Keeper; there was even a name for what she was. Somehow that made it so much easier to accept. And that poem…she wasn't sure just how accurate it was. She doubted there was any way for the shadows, Faal Vopraan, to be clearly defined and thus there was no way for the purpose or existence of a Dark Keeper to be clearly defined. But…it was enough. It was something to cling to, some way of putting all this in some sort of order in her head where it could be neatly inserted into the rest of her life. Sort of.

She realized she was still clutching the doll. She put it back in the chest and closed it. "I'm…um…sorry I didn't…I mean…"

"We understand, Love." Malchior told her. "This isn't something you can really tell someone about. It's somewhat similar to the reason we decided not to tell the others about the gods unless it was absolutely necessary. If people went around knowing everything about everything about the world then they'd never get out of bed."

"Those who should know will find out." Rorek assured her.

She nodded. And this, too, was a relief. She had wanted to tell them. The secret felt like one more wall that kept her separate from the rest of the world; the rest of her friends. It was nice to have them on this side of that wall with her. And with that she realized that one more bump had been ironed out. She was a step closer to giving them the books she had only just shut away in her chest.

"You…said something about someone named Hrist?"

(O)

"I'm so glad you're letting me redo your makeup Miss Raven! After that night I kept thinking that some of the shades just weren't as flattering as they could be." Eric gushed.

She _hadn't_ intended to have him redo her makeup. She'd originally just come in to get him to do her hair but he was so enthusiastic, like a kid whose Christmas had come early, that she just didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. So she sat down in his chair and let him work his magic, literally.

"Wow, the other makeup lasted a long time. You must have liked it a lot. You'll like this even more, I promise! But we should probably do your hair first. Would you like it trimmed as well? You don't have any split ends, but it could do with a bit of shaping and evening out." he went on.

"Um, yes, yes go ahead and do that. Only this time don't make it wavy."

"No, I thought about that too and wavy wasn't quite right. How about making it thicker? Giving it more body? That would work better than making it wavy. I _was_ thinking of curling it at the ends but, no, that wouldn't work quite right either. Let's see…"

Even to Raven's inexperienced eye, the makeup's difference was an improvement. There was a hint of violet in the dark shadow he'd put around her eyes and the color on her lips was a pale pastel lavender blue that was about the same shade as her skin and didn't stand out nearly as much as the dark blue. This brought the most of one's attention to her eyes, which were suddenly quite heavy in the lashes department. It brought out the flecks of both blue and violet that often battled for supremacy as the dominant color in her irises. Eric had also somehow managed to put a polish on her ajna chakra. Her hair was also…fuller. Much fuller and much thicker. It was impossible, but it almost seemed as though Eric had managed to increase the actual number of hairs on her head. And it was very soft. She liked it, but she wouldn't want to keep it like this forever. She was _still_ getting used long hair. She really didn't need to have this much more of it to deal with on a regular basis.

She paid Eric for his work and teleported herself directly to her room where she had the dress laying out on her bed waiting for her. It had come with a lot of jewelry. A ridiculous amount of jewelry, in fact. But she wasn't about to wear all of it. The jewelry that was attached to the dress itself she'd keep, but she only needed one necklace, one set of bracelets (one of which would be the one Rorek made for her sub-space pocket), and the earrings.

Once more she had issues trying to figure out how to get it on. Then she gave up and used magic. She was giving her reflection a critical once-over to see if anything needed to be adjusted when there was a knock on her door.

"Friend Raven! Do you require assistance?" Starfire's voice asked with hope.

Raven opened the door by magic and was about to answer when she realized that Starfire wasn't the only one there. Terra and Lady Eisen were both hovering next to her with big smiles on their faces. Those smiles became dropped jaws.

"Um…I think I've got it. Thanks, though." Raven told them.

"Did you do your makeup?-!" Terra exclaimed.

"No, no. I had my hair and makeup done by Eric Divan. He's a magic-user who specializes in this sort of thing." Raven answered swiftly.

"Isn't that the dress that Mother Mayhem made you put on?" Lady Eisen asked.

"Well, sort of. The original dress was white, but it didn't look right so, before I turned into The Other to fool the Church of Blood, I changed the color. Malchior suggested I think of it as a sort of trophy, but he was probably just angling for any excuse to get me to wear it." she explained. Terra laughed and came around behind Raven to adjust some of the short decorative skirts. They weren't all full skirts. Some of them went off to the side, others parted open in the middle, and one or two were only skirts because they were too wide and ruffled to be sashes. _Everything_ had a gold border to it, and many of the skirts had jewels glittering in the designs of said borders. "Besides, the only other dress I have is about as flattering as a plank of wood." she added.

_This_ dress, the other hand, could have fed a third-world country for well over a year. The jewels on it were real. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and topazes of many different shades and colors were all glittering in various places on her person. If they had been going anywhere public she would have flatly refused to wear it. Unless it was Halloween, that is. Then she could just say she was dressed as a queen and everyone would assume the jewels were fake. She usually dressed up as the Grim Reaper, though. She pulled it off _very_ well. She wasn't sure why, but it was something about having a scythe in her hands, even if it was made of plastic. She wondered if she could get away with being the Grim Reaper in this dress, though. Probably not.

"Oh, Raven! You look glorious!" Starfire gushed, hovering around Raven to see if there was anything she could do to help as well. But apparently Terra had taken care of the last little detail.

"Do you have a swim suit?" Lady Eisen asked.

Raven stared at her. "Yeah…why?"

Eisen grinned. "You should probably bring it. And some toiletries, and an extra change of clothes…just expect to be spending the night."

"Nightwing is allowing that?" Raven asked, surprised.

"Well he did make a fuss, and then Rorek took him aside and told him something that made him change his mind. Not sure what it was, though."

Probably Rorek was explaining to Nightwing just why his fathering instincts didn't need to worry about…certain things.

It was strange. Malchior and Rorek were all but completely denied this one freedom. Pre-marital hanky-panky didn't kill humans, after all (except in the case of certain particularly visceral STDs). And yet, because this rule was so strict it would personally come around and mince them if they broke it, it opened up other freedoms. Sleeping in their arms, kissing in her bedroom, and spending the night somewhere remote with just the three of them were all options opened to them because of the certain knowledge that nothing would happen. Nothing _could_ happen. Not if the two dragons wanted to remain in one piece.

She was starting to wonder if bonding was really the same thing as a marriage. For some reason she had the feeling that it was somehow different, deeper. Part of the draconic Law that could not be broken. Humans married and got divorced all the time. Why did she get the feeling that divorce was flat out _not an option_ for dragons?

Malchior and Rorek were not in their usual armor. Instead they were wearing white tunics over their black bodysuits and scarves had been set aside for the night. On their feet were leather boots, and on the tunics there was embroidery along the hems. Silver for Rorek and gold for Malchior. Closer inspection revealed that the tunics were made of silk, and the embroidery on the hems were draconic characters. They each had a leather belt around their waist, and there was a definite sense that they'd taken greater care with their hair tonight.

Lady Eisen had detached herself from Raven some minutes before she went looking for them and was currently straightening collars and sleeves to their joint embarrassment. The guys were trying not to snicker. They stopped having to try when Raven entered the room. Then all eyes were on her and all jaws dropped. Although in the case of Red X (who was _still_ hanging around the tower despite having his own mansion now), this was mostly a guess.

"_Daaaaaaang_." X whistled. "And I thought Four Eyes made that dress look good."

"You…kept it?" Nightwing asked, eyes wide.

"Come now, Nightwing. I have seen your room. You understand the concept of trophies, do you not?" Rorek asked. He stepped forward and swept into a bow, taking Raven's hand and kissing it. "You look absolutely stunning, My Lady." he told her.

"RrrrRRRrrr."

Rorek's eyes shot open and he rounded like a gunshot on his silfron. "You are shameless!" he exploded.

Malchior just shrugged and grinned. The spill words started flying since the two were decent enough to keep their argument internal, but Raven didn't let it go on for too long. She took Rorek by the arm. "Are we going or what?" she asked.

"Shouldn't we be getting pictures or something?" Lady Eisen asked.

"What are you, our mother now?" Malchior demanded. With uncanny timing, Ru hopped up onto Lady Eisen's shoulder and wiggled her nose pointedly at Malchior. He glared at the hare. "No." he stated. "I absolutely refuse to be mothered by a bunny rabbit!"

'_Pictures now!'_ Ru demanded.

"_One_ picture, and then we're leaving." Raven stated, palming her communicator from the sub-space pocket on her wrist. She put it in camera mode and handed it over to Lady Eisen. "Come on." she said, pulling Malchior towards her.

(O)

A/N: Everyone's read that comic 'Malchior the Gentleman', right? XD

(O)

They were in her ship and Malchior was flying it. Sort of. He'd had a crash course in piloting from Cyborg but after five minutes of not knowing how to compensate for the unexpected turbulence of the western sea winds and he gave up. He was now directing the ship's flight with magic. The engine was still doing the actual flying, but levitation was pointing it in the right direction and keeping it steady. After another ten minutes Raven was blindfolded so she wouldn't see their destination coming up.

The ship landed a little shakily but it landed and Raven was carried out of it. The salty sea air was prominent here. More prominent since said air was free of the pollution that your nose stopped smelling after a while in a big city. She could hear the steady lapping of waves in the distance, felt a cool breeze somewhere that must be shady because it was only afternoon and the sun was hot today. Her feet felt a smooth surface beneath the glittering slippers and there was a sense of…openness. Openness that felt a bit different from how it might be if they were simply standing outside.

Still blindfolded, Raven was guided by two pairs of hands across a walkway that felt like glass or polished stone, up a short flight of stairs and a few more steps of smooth walkway. Then the dragons turned her about and removed the blindfold.

Raven gasped.

They were inside a cavern, the mouth of which was wide and looked out onto a wide beach. To the far left was what might have been a sheer drop if it hadn't been for all the crystal clear water that filled it up, around her were straightened and polished levels of stone that could _not_ have been natural, and above her…

Above her it looked like someone had cut open a geode and found it lined with quartz. In her experience, stalactites and stalagmites were generally a dull sandy color since the normal component of the secretions that made them was calcium carbonate. These stalactites, however, were milky white. In fact, some of them were almost translucent while others even had hues of blue and green. There were stalagmites off in the distant reaches of the cave which no normal eye would be able to see considering how dark it was, but around here there were none. That was strange. So was the smooth stone beneath her feet that looked like it had been mixed with flakes of crystal sand. So were the steps. And so was the stone structure behind her.

It was a tower. Not a large one. It was very wide but it only had two stories at most, unless you counted the roof. That was occupied by stone dragons in various poses. Small dragons about the size of large dogs, but they had incredible detail.

There was also writing carved into the tower. Dragon writing. And when she started reading one of the columns out of curiosity she realized that it was the poem that had been cleverly tucked neatly into a random part of the book of draconic literature. The one that had been written specifically for her.

She blushed and was unable to stop the smile from taking over her face. The first draconic structure in hundreds of years and the writing on it was a love poem to her.

"This area is impossible to reach by land or sea. The surrounding scape is extremely rocky and the sea itself looks like the kind of place you'd expect to find Sirens sitting around luring ships to their deaths. No one knew this cave even existed because no one could get close enough to the beach to see what the deeper shadow under the cliff face actually was. Though, to be honest, I don't think anyone cared too much about this place to bother speculating about it. Even small boats go around to avoid the huge rocks, if they come by here at all." Malchior explained.

"Purchasing this area was quite easy, actually. The previous owner seemed happy to give it up. I highly doubt he would have had he known what was here, but since it is only valuable to those of us to whom flight comes easily, it was a win-win situation." Rorek went on.

"You _bought_ this place?"

"I do not believe it would have been legal to work the stone and build a dwelling if we had not." Rorek said.

He was right about that. There was, more or less, no such thing as wilderness anymore. Everything had an owner these days, even if that owner was the Federal Government.

But…this was theirs. This cave was big enough for Malchior and Rorek to fly a few laps in the air as dragons (though not both at the same time), and there was no telling just how deep it went. She wasn't even sure just how deep the water was. It was so clear that she could, in theory, see the bottom. But it, like the cave itself, curved out of sight. And it was all theirs. A home away from home. Just for them.

Raven wrapped her arms around the twins' necks and hugged them tightly. "It's _wonderful_."

(O)

Malchior and Rorek had learned about how dates typically took place in the evenings and did not agree. Especially not for what they had planned, which was to get Raven in a bathing suit and go play on the beach that they now owned.

So instead of a fancy dinner they'd had a fancy lunch within the tower – which was absolutely _stunning_, even if it was a bit chilly. Since it was made entirely of stone, all insulation and ventilation was done by way of rugs, tapestries, and magic. In fact, Malchior and Rorek had worked very hard to replace with magic all the little comforts and luxuries they had in the T-Tower. And that was impressive, especially the light switches. The lights were all glowing crystals hanging from the ceilings that, unlike light bulbs, were not _usually_ connected to a source of power. But here they were, and so was the air conditioning (cooling and heating crystals within the ventilation system), and even the plumbing. Everything had enchantments that were activated when the stones were given power, and they got their power from a central crystal in the basement, which was huge and could be charged up quite easily – especially by people who had more power than they knew what to do with.

What was more, Cyborg had been brought in to help them install electrical outlets and make little converters that would turn the magical energy into electricity. These all needed to be turned on in order to be used and when you were done it was advisable to turn them off again, but they were there, they were behind discrete covers so as not to disrupt the ambiance, and they worked like a charm.

There was a decent amount of furniture, but because there was a lot of space, it didn't seem like much. There was a fireplace in the living room, a sofa, two armchairs, and what turned out to be a working television installed into the fireplace mantel behind a pair of ornamental drapes.

The twins had clearly given up where the kitchen was concerned, though. Rorek had gotten so used to modern technology that going back to cauldrons and cooking fires was just too difficult and so all the amenities had been installed. The counters, cupboards, and pantry shelves were made of that same polished granite with the crystal flakes and everything electrical was at least black and shiny so it looked pretty sleek, but the fact was that there was a stove, an oven, a refrigerator, microwave, toaster, and sink.

The dining room was different. The chairs and table appeared to have been made from the crystal-like stalactites and stalagmites, though cushions had been added and the shape of both were a lot more stylized than the average worker could have afforded even if they'd been made of hardened plastic. There was a bronze chandelier hanging above them supporting hundreds of tiny glowing crystals. Tapestries depicting interesting pictures of flowers and mythical creatures surrounded them and there were various statues and bits of ornamentation that somewhat resembled the baubles Rorek had decorated his room with. Raven wondered just how much _stuff_ the two of them had accumulated. Just how long had they been around before the whole fiasco with Vergonda? How old were they really?

It seemed like such a big dining room for such a small table, though, and she pointed this out while they were eating the fantastic meal that Rorek had cooked. He was getting really good. Raven was a bit jealous. She felt instinctively that this wasn't fair.

"We have a larger table." Rorek explained. "But we decided not to use it unless we invited others here for whatever reason. It seemed a bit too much for just the three of us."

After lunch they showed Raven to her room upstairs. It didn't have its own bathroom and it wasn't as big as her room in the tower even without dimensions that stuck their tongues out at the laws of physics, but it had a large bed, a vanity desk, a walk-in closet, and an entire wall that was cut out for the specific purpose of being a set of book shelves. It also had a window that had an amazing view of the cave's stalactite structure and its spring.

She almost expected the bed's mattress to be stuffed with feathers, but it seemed as though the twins had decided to buy a modern mattress and set of box springs and then build the frame around it. They'd bought a lot of things for this place. Well, they could, couldn't they? They were probably walking around with more gold than was in the national treasury. And one gold coin could get you a lot of credit plus the unending friendship of the technicians and alchemists on Azarath.

They'd had plenty of time to do all this too, hadn't they? Raven wondered just how often they came back here. She hadn't really noticed it, but they'd been tag-teaming again, hadn't they? One was always around while the other was mysteriously elsewhere and she hadn't thought about it because, once again, it was easier to be the girlfriend of two boys when they took turns.

She changed into her swimsuit in her room. It probably wasn't what the twins (Malchior in particular) were hoping for, though. It was, more or less, the same as her costume just without the legs or arms and with a bit of extra padding in the chest area to compensate for the lack of bra. Oh it was a _bit_ more form-fitting, but they probably had more to look at when she was wearing the dress since the suit came right up to her neck and didn't even dip down invitingly in the back. By modern standards, it was almost ridiculously modest for a swimsuit. But Raven had never been particularly comfortable _showing off_ and it was a rather old bathing suit. Dark blue with a black raven on the back.

The twins were both wearing black swimming trunks. And nothing else. And that was when Raven noticed something a bit…odd.

"Do…you two shave your legs?" she asked curiously.

Rorek coughed. "No, no we just do not have any body hair. It only grows on our heads."

"Oh." which would explain why they had no arm hair, chest hair, or facial hair.

The sea was a bit cool since autumn was coming on early this year, but Raven could turn some of her power into heat to warm her body and it wasn't a problem. It was kind of fun swimming around and going far enough out that the waves caught you. But, unfortunately, what fun she might have had if she'd been a normal girl was taken away by the fact that she could fly and there wasn't much novelty in the buoyancy of water. However, the 'rocks' that Rorek and Malchior told her about were actually tall pillars of darkened stone that looked a bit too theatrical not to be part of some cartoon or movie. There were lots of them, one or two with tops smooth enough to sit down on, and they _were_ fun. Especially when a game of tag had been initiated and the joy of having some playful childish fun was flavored by the fact that the twins' version of 'tag, you're it!' was a kiss.

And then Raven decided she wanted to play in the sand a bit. It was amazingly white and consistent sand. Usually you got rocks and sticks and things when you went to a beach that wasn't maintained by some park or other. She wondered if Malchior and Rorek had had a hand in that as well. They might have, since neither of them seemed too interested in the sand. Probably they felt they'd played enough. So while she was building the big lumpy mounds that kids and adults alike insist on calling a 'sand castle', Rorek had decided to shift into dragon form and was enjoying the feel of the waves crashing over him while Malchior was laying down next to her enjoying the slowly dimming rays of the setting sun.

Deciding that he was just way too tempting lying out flat like that, Raven took a handful of sand and poured it onto his chest. He looked down at it, and then at her. "What are you doing?" he asked as more sand was laid on him.

"I'm burying you in the sand." she answered.

"Okay…why?"

"Not sure. I just heard it's the sort of thing you do on the beach." she answered.

He shrugged. "Fine by me. The sand's nice and warm from the sun."

She was tempted to take all the heat out of her next handful of sand and then pour it on his neck, but decided not to. He might decide not to let her turn him into her biggest sand castle.

By the time the sun was an orange sphere kissing the horizon, she had a big pile of white sand with Malchior's head sticking out of one end. Feeling a bit drunk with the kind of fun she'd never had as a child, she sat on top of the mound and, feeling in a silly mood, said, "I declare myself queen of this castle. All who object are welcome to lodge a formal complaint with my hand."

"I have an objection to make: Her Majesty is sitting _outside_ her castle. Wouldn't she rather be inside where it's nice and warm?"

"Kinda difficult to burry one's _self_ in the sand." Raven pointed out.

"What's magic for then?"

"Well that's cheating. That's no fun."

"Neither is having you on the other side of a layer of sand."

"Oh, I don't know," she began, leaning over the mound so she was, more or less, laying down on Malchior with her arms folded just under the base of his neck. "I kind of like having you pinned down for once, even if it'd take a mountain of solid steel to _actually_ do the job." she said.

He smirked. "Let's pretend that I _am_ pinned down. What now?"

"Hmm…I could draw on your face." she mused. His smile faltered. Then she smiled, moved forward, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

There was a bit of grime, a bit of sea salt, but quite a lot of Malchior. Especially when, emboldened by the fantasy that he, theoretically, couldn't move, she found herself taking over. This time she was the one pressing in, deepening the kiss, working his lips with hers until, further encouraged by small guttural sounds he was making deep at the base of his throat, she slipped her tongue into his mouth.

She could remember the first time she'd met him – talked to him. How young she'd been; how wonderful the world had seemed when she saw a future that might be changed for the better. And then, afterwards…afterwards she had gotten over the betrayal, forgiven him in her heart though she told herself she'd never trust him again, and yet all that time some part of her had felt too strongly that no other man would fit. No one else had ever gotten so close so swiftly before. She was instinctively untrusting of strangers, and yet his voice, his presence…

She'd gotten over him, yes, but she'd fallen right back in love with him four years later, hadn't she? Only he was different now. He regretted his actions, and not just because she'd trapped him back in the book, either. She remembered those comfortable evenings she'd spent learning the dragon's language from him. She remembered how nice it had been when he was always there in her room, waiting for her. And how strange. Normally she hated people in her room but he was…she was just so _comfortable_ with him. She'd missed him so much when he stopped being the paper man trapped in her book. And now she had him back. He was hers. These feelings were so strong; so palpable; so overwhelming. She felt like she wanted to fuse their wrists together or something so they could never be apart. And all these things she poured out into her kiss because she couldn't say it all out loud.

Eventually she came up for air. She wasn't sure how long it'd been but the stars were out and there was a large crescent moon in the sky. Rorek had also turned back into his human form and was hovering on the beach. There was a hungry look on his face and she didn't even need to read his spill words to know what he wanted.

"Just…a minute." she told him. She needed to get her breath back and remind herself that she had a second boyfriend who would be expecting the same attention as the first. It was daunting. She really wished there was some way she could kiss the both of them at once without having to switch mouths. And there was no possible way anyone could have written a guide to being the girlfriend of dragon twins. She was on her own here; operating off instinct, common sense, and every ounce of internal strength she could muster.

But she had affection for both of them. Perhaps it wasn't _so_ difficult.

Rorek laid down and let her crawl on top of his chest where, with some prodding from The Other, she pinned his unresisting wrists down on either side of his head and took control. He let her do it. He _wanted_ her to do it. She felt him shudder slightly under her as she began to dredge up memories of him as well.

Malchior was the first to call her 'beautiful', but Rorek was the first to truly say it with his eyes. She had gotten used to being the second choice next to Starfire. In fact, she'd come to prefer it that way. She didn't like attention, Starfire did. But Rorek…his eyes had always been on her, not Starfire. She was the one he bowed to, treating her with the kind of preference she'd come to believe she'd never get while she was standing next to the Tamaranian beauty. In his eyes she truly believed she was beautiful. And he was so handsome, so impossibly attractive, that it was amazing a man like him, who could have any girl he wanted, would become so fixated on her and her alone. That was so unusual in this day and age. It was practically weird. If he wasn't so drop-dead gorgeous he'd probably be considered a very polite creeper.

And he was in love with her.

There was no way to measure time like this. She had no idea if that kiss was longer or shorter than the one she'd given Malchior, though if she had to make a guess she'd like to say it was about the same. Like Malchior, Rorek's expression was dream-like and far away. His eyes opened slightly when she pulled back and he blinked up at her. He smiled, looking drunk.

To their left Malchior was upright and brushing the sand off him. Raven rolled off Rorek onto sand that was still warm from the sun. Malchior sprawled out on her other side and, for a while, the three of them just laid there, enjoying one another and the sweet night air. Arms slipped around her as she stared up at the stars. She reached up and her own arms went around their necks. It was a bit awkward and not for the first time did she guiltily wish they had one body. But they adjusted their positions so that they were pressed close enough she didn't have to stretch so much. They nuzzled her neck, their bodies closing over her like a warm tent. Everything was gritty with sand and salt but none of them cared much.

"That was amazing." Malchior murmured, his lips finding her skin.

"Yes." Rorek whispered breathlessly.

The tide was coming in but none of them wanted to move. It was at their shoulders before they finally got up and went back to the tower to wash up and get ready for dinner. This time the meal was simple and they ate it in the living room wearing comfortable clothes as they watched Malchior's new favorite movie, Pitch Black. Not the most romantic of movies, but a romance would have put her to sleep. They knew her too well.

It was very quiet in this place. The distant sound of waves echoing in the cavern somehow seemed to define the silence rather than break it. It was so peaceful, so comfortable. She was starting to think about making a joining door between this place and her room in the tower. She could put it between closets. That way they could come here whenever they liked.

The couch turned out to be one of those that folded out into a bed. They discovered this by accident about halfway through the movie and decided to fold it out and grab some bedclothes for it so they could lay down. It was a bit too comfortable, though, and Raven fell asleep. Tucked between her two dragons, she was more happy and content than she could ever remember being in her life.

**The End**

(For now :D)

(8)

A/N: I kind of wanted to write the love poem out but I'm just too tired and inspiration for it isn't coming. Maybe I'll try to bring it up in Knots. Did anyone notice that both the Draconic version and the English version of the Dark Keeper poem rhymed? That wasn't easy! Even when you're just grabbing words, smashing them together, and giving them your own meaning there has to be _some_ sort of logic to it.

Be sure to watch for the sequel! I will try to start updating Squares again, though, and will keep you all updated via my profile page. Right now, though, Knots is probably going to have to wait for January or February. Hopefully earlier, but Year End is the busiest time of the year for us in the office and the craziness has already begin (20+ freaking hours of overtime looks great on the check but I've had two nervous breakdowns so far this time around and I can feel another one coming on very soon). On the plus side, lots of overtime means plenty of cash for Christmas.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my reviewers. I'm too lazy to go back and list every single one of you by name but you know who you are, so thanks!

I'd also like to thank my betas, Discb and Jezebel. . Thanks guys! You've been a big help! Also Cinis and everyone else who helpfully pointed out my mistakes and errors. No one's perfect, after all, and I really appreciate the help!

It's been fun, guys! I hope to see you all in Knots and I will try to start updating Squares again. It probably won't be this week (since I'm probably working this Saturday again) or next week (since next week is when I'm going on vacation :D), but I will try to continue that if only to keep my hand in. Knots probably won't be nearly as long as Circles, but, if you can't tell from the 'WTF!' snippet from Rorek's memoirs in this chapter, I've got Plans. The kind that deserve the capital 'P' 8D.

Thanks for all the support and reviews! And, as always, do not hesitate to point out any spelling or grammar errors that we may have missed. Oh, yeah, and review. Feedback is always appreciated. :D


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